Crossed Hearts
by Whatever Makes You Break
Summary: When Winnie McKinnon's mother, Marlene, was killed during the 1st Wizarding War, the Weasleys took her in as one of their own. Fred and George were her best mates, but one had the potential to be much more. Part I.
1. Chapter 1: The Dark Mark

_**Chapter One**_

_The Dark Mark_

_--_

_A friend is someone who knows everything about you,  
but loves you anyway._

_--_

The humid summer air was nearly suffocating, even at such a late hour. A thunderstorm had dampened the lengthy grass of the Burrow. The trains of two elderly wizards were weighed down by the moist earth. A thick layer of mud had began collect upon the soles of their boots as they approached the _unique_ looking home belonging to Arthur and Molly Weasley. The moon managed to peak through the thickening clouds above for a few stray seconds before dissolving once more. Another storm seemingly threatened the skies again.

Albus Dumbledore took his counterpart, Minerva McGonagall, by the elbow to help the aging witch steady her strides through the virtual quick sand. She sent him a feeble smile of appreciation. Dumbledore was always a gentleman, no matter how grave the circumstance. Minerva held a small snoozing child on her hip, seemingly dead to the world. The little girl's hands were wrapped snugly around the neck of Deputy Headmistress with a tiny black kitten purring quietly in her arms, tear stains were clearly visible through a thick layer of soot coating nearly her entire body. The small gold locket, on a chain too long for her little neck, hung over her dirty jumper. The two wizards stood before the pale wooden front door, neither feeling mentally prepared to deliver the news of another Order member's death. There had been so many untimely deaths, and there were still so many more to come.

"They managed to orphan two children in a matter of weeks, Albus," whispered McGonagall, with the slightest hint of terror in her solemn voice. "First, young Neville Longbottom, and now poor Winifred McKinnon—"

"And I fear more will suffer the same fate before it is all over," sighed Dumbledore.

"They were so young," said McGonagall. "None of them were more than twenty five years old, and their children will—"

"Their children will grow up knowing their parents gave their sanity and their own lives, in hopes that they can live a life free of trepidation and malevolence," said Dumbledore wisely.

McGonagall nodded slowly in reply, tears stinging her radiant green eyes, propping the sleeping girl higher on her hip. Dumbledore offered the tearful woman his handkerchief. She dabbed her eyes several times with her free hand before returning the white cloth to her dear friend. He made certain McGonagall had stifled her silent sobs before knocking on the door before them. He placed a kind hand on her shoulder whilst they waited for an answer. Footsteps grew audibly nearer as Minerva cleared her throat to prime her vocal chords again. Arthur looked through the peephole in the center of the front door before he even considered opening it. Countless locks could be heard disengaging prior to the eventual opening of the ancient door.

"Albus, Minerva, to what do I owe this pleasure and at such a late hour?" asked Arthur, welcoming the two inside and closing the door behind them. He was wearing his pajamas, a nightcap, and clutching an illuminated lantern. "W-Why is Winnie with you?"

It was obvious, judging by his appearance and lethargic body language, that Arthur had just woken from a dead sleep. Heavy bags were visible under his kind eyes, matching that of Dumbledore and McGonagall. None of them had received more than a few hours of sleep a night in what seemed like decades. His face showed great concern.

"Arthur, I fear this visit is far from a pleasant inclination," said Dumbledore softly.

"Please, take a seat," said Arthur, suddenly more alert. Dumbledore and McGonagall each took a seat on a nearby tattered sofa while Arthur sat anxiously in an oversized armchair across from the pair. He lit a fire in the adjacent hearth. "What is this all about?"

"Unfortunately, Arthur—" started Dumbledore.

"Arthur Weasley, what—" hissed a very pregnant Molly Weasley. She stopped dead in her tracks once she realized the reason her husband had gotten out of bed was because of company. Her annoyed expression instantly faded. She clearly felt out of sorts, in her nightgown and slippers, in front of the two visitors. She blushed and smiled sweetly.

"Oh, Arthur dear, why didn't you tell me we had visitors?" asked Mrs. Weasley.

"Sorry, darling," said Arthur.

"Please, join us, Molly," said Dumbledore. "This most certainly concerns you as well."

Molly raised a curious brow before she noticed McGonagall was holding a little girl in her arms. Molly gasped and waddled to take the child from Minerva's possession. She propped the little girl, with such pretty long black hair, up on her hip how McGonagall had previously positioned her. Molly swayed from side to side, brushing the hair from the little girl's ash covered face and humming a quiet tune.

"What's happened?" urged Molly. "Why is Winnie so disheveled? Where is her mother, where is Marlene?"

"Please, Molly," said Dumbledore calmly. "In your condition, I would prefer you sit down and allow me to explain properly."

Molly clutched Winnie closer and eased herself into the other large armchair opposite Dumbledore and McGonagall. Her large stomach looked as if it were about to burst.

"I apologize for waking you both at such a late hour," said Dumbledore.

"Please, Albus," said Molly, ignoring Dumbledore's formalities. "Has Marlene been hurt? Winnie is more than welcome to stay here until she recovers. It would be no trouble. Fred and George are quite fond of her, you know, we all are."

"We know," said Dumbledore. He could hear Minerva's breath become caught up in throat. He sent her a formidable look, silently requesting her to control herself. She lowered her gaze to her laced fingers in her lap. Dumbledore returned his gaze to the Weasleys. "I am afraid Marlene's fate is much more grave."

"Then you mean, you mean she's—" said Arthur.

"I am afraid so," sighed Dumbledore. "She has been killed along with the remaining members of her family. They were together in Little Langley when they were attacked."

Molly gasped for breath, clutching her chest in shock. Tears began to fall down her plump cheeks. Arthur sloppily rubbed his mouth, processing the loss of their dear friend. They had known so many whose lives were lost already. Gideon and Fabian Prewett, Molly's brothers, had just been taken from them two months prior at the hands of Antonin Dolohov. They were still mourning their deaths, and now several more were added to the deadly equation.

"Not Marlene," sobbed Molly. "She was only twenty three, still a child herself..."

"And you said her parents, Eleanor and Rudolf, as well?" asked Arthur, breathing heavily.

"Yes," said Dumbledore. "Her sister, Abigail, and her husband were also taken."

"Abby was pregnant with their first child," cried Molly. "We were both due next month."

"It is an utter tragedy," sighed Dumbledore, lowering his eyes in sorrow. "The assassins have yet to be identified, though rumors have already began to spread of sightings of a suspicious tall dark haired man with a tall hat followed by a shorter man with wild grey hair and a pencil thin physique in the area."

"Karkaroff and Travers," said Arthur.

"Yes, it would seem so," said Dumbledore.

"I guess they couldn't just couldn't let Winnie grow up without her father," said Arthur, his face reddening with rage. "They had to take her mother away from her, as well."

"She never even had the chance to meet her dad," Molly cried, looking down at the sleeping girl. "What those monsters did to Benjy was so gruesome I cannot even bare to think of it."

"Yes, the loss of Benjy Fenwick was devastating," said Albus, nodding slowly in agreement.

"How did Winnie manage to come out of all this alive, Albus?" asked Arthur abruptly.

"That is still somewhat of a mystery," said Dumbledore. "She was discovered shaken, but unharmed, in the rubble of the home. We believe Marlene hid her somewhere where the assassins could not find her. I am not keen on pressing young Winifred for details of her survival until she is ready to do so."

"She hasn't said much of anything," McGonagall added, obviously barely holding herself together. "She's just been calling for her mother and pointing at the sky. She was alone in the debris of the house, with that little black kitten, for nearly an hour before she was discovered. She was just shaking Marlene, trying desperately to wake her. The Dark Mark was overhead. That's what she was pointing at."

"You mean she was alone with the bodies for over an hour?" Arthur choked.

Molly's breath became caught in her throat as she then noticed a large stain on the front of Winnie's grey jumper. It was blood and not her own. She placed an adoring kiss atop the little girl's head, rocking her back and forth. Molly couldn't imagine what Winnie must have seen just hours earlier.

"Yes," said Dumbledore despondently.

"Those sick, sick b—"

"Well, what is to happen to poor Winnie?" interrupted Molly, blubbering like mad. "She's only three years old."

"That is why we are here," said Dumbledore. "We were hoping that the two of you would be so kind to look after young Winifred for a couple days until Minerva and I get her affairs in order. Then, unfortunately, with no remaining relatives, we have no choice but to send Miss McKinnon to St. Mary's orphanage until her eleventh birthday—"

"You will do no such thing," said Molly, stifling her cries in an instant. "This beautiful child will not spend her childhood in some _asylum_—"

"Molly, St. Mary's is a highly reputed _orphanage_, hardly an _asylum_," said Dumbledore. "I have the utmost faith in their abilities to properly care for Miss McKinnon—"

"Care and love are two very different things, Albus," said Molly. "I cannot bear the thought of Winnie growing up without a loving family."

"Unfortunately, we has no other options—" said Dumbledore.

"Oh, yes you do," snapped Molly. "She'll stay with us."

"Of course she will," said Arthur swiftly, nodding in agreement.

"Molly, Arthur you are most gracious," said Dumbledore. "But I fear you have quite a large family already. Such a burden—"

"She would most definitely _not_ be a burden," interjected Molly. "Winnie is a wonderful girl, much like her mother. Arthur and I will be her guardians, end of discussion."

"If you insist, Molly," smiled Dumbledore. "I must admit, in all my years, I have never known such benevolence. The two of you are absolutely extraordinary. I am certain Marlene would appreciate such selflessness."

"We would do anything for Marlene...and Benjy for that matter," said Arthur honestly.

Dumbledore nodded kindly at the couple. He peered over at Minerva who had tears in her eyes again. He smiled sadly at his friend before he stood up. He offered his hand for her to accept and stand beside him. Arthur and Molly followed suit, Molly with much more difficulty than her husband.

"We will send her things in the morning...well, anything that can be salvaged," said Dumbledore. "The McKinnon inheritance is now in Winifred's name. You will not be forced to suffer any financial responsibility, for Marlene's family was quite well off as you know."

"Her assets are no matter," said Molly. "We can manage another little one with or without her additional funds."

"I am sure you could," smiled Dumbledore, placing a hand on Minerva's shoulder. "Again, may I speak on behalf of Marlene in saying 'Thank you for your kindness.'"

"Nonsense," said Molly. "We deserve no recognition. I wouldn't be able to live with myself if little Winnie was shipped off to one of those dreadful orphanages. That is no place for a child to grow up."

"Even so, thank you," smiled Dumbledore. "We must be on our way, however. It'll be morning in a few hours, and we have several other matters to attend to before daybreak. We will be in touch."

"Yes, of course," said Arthur. "Goodnight."

"Goodnight," said the teaching duo in unison.

Dumbledore and McGonagall strolled out into the darkness once again. A steady drizzle fell upon them as they walked to the edge of the Burrow before apparating. Dumbledore held McGonagall's arm like before. He remained silent, content with the outcome of their meeting.

"You _are_ shrewd, Albus," said McGonagall.

"How so, my dear Minerva?" asked Dumbledore, looking straight ahead.

"You knew all along that Arthur and Molly would take her in," deducted McGonagall.

"I haven't the slightest idea what you're talking about," smirked Dumbledore.

McGonagall examined her old friend's expression allowed a faint smile to grace his lips. She kept quiet, gripping his hand warmly in hers.

--

Molly carried the little girl in her arms and drew her a bath, refusing to let her sleep in an outfit covered in her mother's blood. Arthur sat on the floor of the lavatory, his back against the wall, holding Winnie's small black kitten in his hands. He looked down at the tiny animal with a blank expression, brushing the soot off its fur. He slid the soot off the heart shaped tag dangling off the collar and read the kitten's name, "May." It was the birth month of Winnie and both of her parents: Marlene McKinnon and Benjy Fenwick. Molly ran her hand through the water to check the temperature.

Winnie didn't wake from her emotional exhaustion induced slumber until Molly pulled her jumper over her head. Her vision was blurry from the mixture of ash and tears that coated her eyelids. She was not startled by her new surroundings, she did not cry; in fact, she did not react at all. Molly placed her in the bathtub and began attempting to scrub the dried blood and soot from her skin. Winnie sat in the warm water, staring straight ahead with no expression on her face.

"Winnie dear, you are going to be staying here, with us, from now on," said Molly in the kindest voice she could muster. "Alright?"

The little girl nodded her head forward once without so much as blinking. Molly looked at Arthur with a solemn expression, pleading for him to say something.

"Sweetheart, could we get you anything?" asked Arthur.

"Mummy," said Winnie without a moment's hesitation.

"Oh—" choked Arthur awkwardly, peering at Molly for help.

"Dear, your mum—" started Molly. "You see, sometimes daddies and mum—"

"She's dead?" said Winnie in a tone that was seeking reassurance that the fact was true more than it was asking a question. She understood the concept of death. Her mother had taught it to her young. How could she not when Winnie's own father had been killed before she was born?

"Yes, dear, she is," said Molly. "We are so terribly sorry."

Winnie merely nodded again, expressionless. She stared straight forward again without another word spoken. The three of them remained silent for the remainder of Winnie's bath. Once she was completely clean, Molly covered her in a large cotton towel and lifted her from the tub. Molly rubbed the cloth over her skin to dry her off.

"I'll go and nick some of the kids' pajamas," said Arthur quickly, getting to his feet and setting May gently on the closed toilet seat, where she curled up in a ball.

"Fred and George," said Winnie, unable to formulate another thought.

"They're in bed," said Molly, pushing a long strand of Winnie's long dark hair from her face. "You can sleep with them tonight, if you like."

Winnie repeated her blank nod, translating her approval of Molly's suggestion. Arthur returned with an oversized t-shirt that would act as a decent nightgown and a pair of what must have been the twins'. Arthur handed Winnie her pet kitten before Molly carried her quietly into the twins' bedroom. They had fallen asleep in a most awkward position on one bed, a pile of figurines between them upon the sheets. Arthur collected the toys and placed them in their trunk then covered them up with a blanket. Molly walked to lay Winnie in their currently unused bed, but she shook her head violently.

She climbed down from Molly's arms and crawled in between Fred and George. Arthur shrugged and covered her with the same blanket. She immediately closed her eyes, clutching May against her chest. The couple tiptoed towards the door, suddenly hearing the faint sound of sobbing from the little girl. Molly had taken a step forward to console her before she saw a gangly arm extend over Winnie, hugging her close. A few seconds later, the crying ceased and slumber ensued. That would be the last time a tear would fall from Winifred Rose McKinnon's eyes for nearly seventeen years.

--

"Bloody hell," I groaned, feeling the sharp pain of the pin jabbing my skin. I tried to make a run for it, project myself off the slightly elevated platform and take off for the door. However, Molly saw my eyes dart towards the exit and decided it was wise to grasp my arms to hold me in place. She jerked me back in a sudden erect position, causing Madam Malkin to poke my waist with another needle.

"Well, if you would just stand still then you wouldn't keep getting stuck," said Molly, sending an apologetic smile to the frustrated seamstress, "and watch your mouth." She felt it necessary to toss in the mild scolding for my inability to speak politely in public, or in private.

"You know I won't wear skirts, so I don't understand why you're insisting I get fitted for one," I objected.

"Because you cannot go on wearing trousers forever," said Molly.

Molly was quite sick of my persistence to avoid skirts, and any real feminine attire for that matter. I didn't see the point in wearing such an inconvenient object when pants were so much easier to move about in. I hadn't worn anything but trousers since I was five, and I didn't intend on changing anytime soon.

"Just give it a rest, Mum," said Fred, striding out of one of the dressing room in a pair of new pants. "It's pointless to try and dress her up like a lady."

"Yeah," George agreed, mimicking his twin's motions from the neighboring dressing room. "It's like putting lingerie on a chimp."

The twins shared matching lighthearted grins as they both flashed me empathetic winks. I rolled my eyes and crossed my arms over my chest, fighting a smile. I couldn't help but laugh at them, even when they were making fun of me, they were just so bleeding hilarious. Madam Malkin's assistants scurried over to Fred and George to make sure their new pants fit them properly.

"George—" started Molly.

"Now, George," Fred mocked Molly, wagging his finger at his brother. "If you can't say anything nice, say it about Winnie."

"You should have thrown them away and kept the stork," I sighed, turning to Molly who was still trying to process Fred and George's insults. I could hear Ginny snickering from across the room as she placed her new robes on the counter. Molly was less than amused, however.

"I've had about enough of you three," said Molly, still holding me tight but staring daggers at the twins. "I gave you free range to go to Gambol and Japes, and you re-pay me by misbehaving."

"Why is she always surprised?" asked Fred, nudging George and receiving a pair of shrugs from the both of us.

"Oh, I wish you three would just grow up already," said Molly fiercely. The three of us shared comical expressions causing Molly to her an exasperated sigh.

I was so envious when Fred and George were allowed to change back into their normal clothes that I could barely see straight. All I wanted to do was put my jeans back on and head back to the Leaky Cauldron. When I felt Molly trying to fix my hair, I had had enough. I tried to pull my head from her fingers with no avail.

"Molls, just let me alone," I pleaded, wincing as she combed her fingers through my waist length black locks. I always wore my hair in long pigtails that hung lazily before my shoulders. Molly hated it. She adjusted my necklace, pulling the latch behind my neck. She felt the constant need to fidget with my appearance.

"Winnie dear, you would be so pretty if you would just let your hair out of those ties," she sighed, licking her thumb and thoroughly wiping a smudge off my cheek, "and looked in a mirror once in awhile."

I winced, scrunching up my nose, as she continued to rub my face clean with her own saliva. Molly was right. I didn't care much about my appearance. I had thick wavy black hair that hung to my waist. In certain lights, my dark locks seemed to gleam a bit of blue. I was petite but just the slightest bit curvy, like my Mum was, no more than an inch or so over five feet. Personally, my eyes were my only prideful physical feature. I had gotten my eyes from my Father. Well, Molls and Arthur had told me that. My eyes, like my Father's, weren't just a regular blue. They were dark in comparison to most. They could be considered navy, even. A few flecks of silver illuminated my unique irises.

I never wore make-up, nor did I even own any. I usually wore a pair of tattered jeans and an oversized hooded sweatshirt that belonged to Fred or George, and it was highly unlikely to see me in anything but my favorite pair of worn grey chucks. I hadn't really had any _true_ suitors over the years. I was romantically overlooked by the male population at Hogwarts mostly because of my Tom-boy tendencies. I was about as close to being one of the boys as a girl could get, and apparently, being one of the boys isn't very attractive to the opposite sex.

"Alright, you're finished," said Madam Malkin, climbing up from her knees. I didn't give Molly a chance to insist upon me being fitted for another skirt for the school year, so I darted into the adjacent dressing room and slid my jeans and George's grey sweatshirt back on. I handed the now wrinkled skirt to Madam Malkin, who rolled her eyes and tapped her wand carelessly to the cloth. The needles instantly disappeared, hemming the skirt to fit my measurements perfectly. Molly took the pile of clothes the lot of us had tried on, along with my Galleons, to buy my things and then the others'.

Fred and George reappeared behind me, flashing their trademark lopsided grins. I crossed my arms over my chest and popped out my hip, Fred rested his elbow on my shoulder and stared on at Molly. She looked rather perturbed, her hair a little out of sorts. We had caused her to get a bit more riled up than usual, but only a bit.

"You know, we really should grow up," said George sarcastically.

"Yeah, and Percy should get a sense of humor," I smirked.

"But we all know that's not going to happen," Fred laughed.

--

**A/N: **_Okay, I hope Winnie is going to come off less Mary-Sueish now. The first chapter isn't too dramatically different than the first chapter from the other fic, but I like it a bit better. I hope you do, too. If she starts turning into a Sue then I want you lot to tell me!_

**PS:** _I just want to thank you lot for being so amazing. I couldn't ask for better readers/reviewers. You inspire me to keep writing. With so much craziness going on in my life with work, school, friends, and trying to find a new apartment...I like writing these fics to sort of take a break from all the outside stresses && you all really are a part of that! Thank you so very much. I hope you keep reading on. I'm extremely excited about this fic. I love these three characters, and I can't wait to tell their story. Get ready...because here we go..._

**Coming Soon:** _The trio reunite with Harry at the inn, return to Hogwarts, and Dementors..._


	2. Chapter 2: The Leaky Cauldron

_**Chapter Two**_

_The Leaky Cauldron_

--

_When someone sings his own praises,  
he always gets the tune too high._

--

Each of us carried at least two shopping bags full of new purchases as we exited Madam Malkin's. Thankfully, we had finished our day of shopping. I couldn't bare another second of Molly's pestering inside every shop along Diagon Alley, and I could tell Fred, George, and Ginny felt the same way.

"Percy should have been back by now," said Molly in a fretful tone, looking down the alley anxiously.

"He was probably just admiring himself in the reflection of his badge and lost track of time," George suggested.

Percy insisted that he needed to make a 'quick trip' to Flourish and Blotts to pick up a few more books, which translated to him flashing his 'Head Boy' badge to anyone who would pay him the slightest bit of attention. Molly's indulgence of his intensified braggart tendencies only made us more annoyed. He'd been high and mighty about his decoration as Head Boy since we returned from our holiday in Egypt, and we were about at our wits end about it.

"Or Sirius Black got him," said Fred.

"Don't you dare joke about such things, Fred Weasley," Molly hissed. "What would you do if you found out that was exactly what happened?"

"Well, then I'd probably tell Professor Trelawney to sod off for giving me a 'P' in Divination," said Fred, a sly smirk crawling across his lips. George, Ginny, and I began snickering in response.

"Merlin, can you lot be serious for two seconds?" asked Molly.

"Maybe," I shrugged. "But why risk it?"

"Oh, never mind," said Molly, rolling her eyes. "Let's go and find Percy, and then we can head back to the Leaky Cauldron."

"Can't we just wait for you here?" George sighed.

"You most certainly cannot," said Molly. "These are dangerous times we are living in, and—"

"Well, if I have to go in one more store I'm going to go looking for Sirius Black myself," I said, crossing my arms over my chest indignantly. "Have him put me out of my misery."

"I second that," said George.

"I third it," said Fred.

Molly opened her mouth to retort, but I was too quick.

"Come off it, Molls," I sighed. "I'm sure a mass murderer is going to be strolling down the streets of Diagon Alley, shopping at Eeylops and Malkin's for school supplies. I mean, be serious."

Molly looked at each one of us as if she was going to continue to argue, but she knew all too well from prior experience that putting up a fight against the three of us when we were determined was pointless. We were going to win nearly every time. It was that simple. She set down all of the bags beside us and took Ginny's hand in hers.

"Mum, can't I stay, t—"

"No," she said firmly. "You three stay here until we get back. Don't move."

The three of us abruptly froze in place like statues, achieving a smile from Ginny and a frown from Molly. Once out of sight, our muscles relaxed. We could finally avoid Molly's watchful eye. The late afternoon sun illuminated the sky with warm hints of orange as several stray clouds hung lazily overhead. What a waste of such a beautiful day, having to spend it cooped up inside shopping. A large stone fountain with a partially weathered away dragon statue occupied the center of the cobblestone street. Making an unspoken agreement to take our rest there, we picked up the bags and lugged them to the fountain.

"I think if I hear one more thing about Sirius Black I'll go mental," said Fred, sitting down on the cobblestones with his back against the fountain border.

"You're already mental," I replied, lying down atop the fountain wall.

"She's got you there, mate," said George, settling himself down next to my head.

I hung one of my legs off onto the ground, propping up my other leg on the wall. I let my fingers dance along the surface of the water, creating ripples across the pool. I then swiftly took my fingers from the crystal clear liquid and flicked several drops of water up at George's cheek. He flinched at first, laughing slightly, before dipping his entire hand in the water and pouring it all over my face. I shot up, spitting the water out of my mouth. I punched his arm, laughing slightly and wiping my face dry with my sleeve.

"I would think you'd be nicer to me, George," I teased, "considering I was the one who fixed your Fainting Fancy massacre."

"You're being overdramatic," he smiled, egging me on.

"Oh, hardly," I scoffed. "You should have called them _Puking Pastels_ because that's all they were good for."

"Actually, that's not a bad idea—"

"George," I scolded swiftly.

"But, yeah," he started again. "I wouldn't brag too much about your little tweak. It did take you two bloody weeks."

"Yeah," I said crossly, "because I kept passing out!"

Suddenly, Fred burst out laughing. It started out as if he was trying to contain himself, snorting slightly, but quickly evolved into a fit of side splitting laughter. George and I looked at each other, shrugged and joined him in his hysterics. Fred always knew the best way to prevent a row between George and I was to make light of the situation. It wasn't hard to do, especially with Fred's comical disposition.

I always had a different relationship with Fred than George. We weren't necessarily closer than George and I were, but we just didn't have any problem showing affection to one another. It wasn't awkward for us to hug or say, "I love you." George, on the other hand, was a different story. I cared about him just the same, but we certainly fought more. Sometimes I think he actually started rows with me just when he was bored. We also _never_ _ever_ hugged or said the "L word" to each other. It just sort of seemed -gauche-. Fred may have been considered the "crueler" twin but to me that wasn't always true.

Fred cleared his throat and scratched the back of his neck, searching for a subject change.

"You know, I've been thinking," said Fred.

"About?" I inquired.

"Percy," he smiled slyly.

"That's unfortunate," I replied.

"I've been thinking that his dashing new badge is in dire need for some improvements," said Fred, rubbing his palms together maliciously.

"A title update, perhaps?" George grinned.

"What about '_Big_head Boy?'" I smirked. "He should consider it a promotion."

"Love it," the twins said in unison.

"We'll nick it after dinner," said Fred.

"Agreed," George and I replied.

It took Molly nearly thirty minutes to recover Percy and meet us back where she had left us to wait. We could see them walking a mile away because of Percy's distinct characteristics. He walked with his chest puffed out and an arrogant smile across his rigid face. His eyes were constantly squinted, his nose literally in the air. The twins and I exchanged identical exasperated expressions upon their arrival. Molly quickly picked up the bags and began walking back towards the Leaky Cauldron with us in toe. Fred and George began making exaggerating his pompous motions. Ginny and I laughed, covering our mouths as soon as Percy turned around to see what was so funny. The twins stopped their mocking and spun around to look for nonexistent culprits alongside Percy.

"Knock it off," said Molly, looking back over her shoulder.

"Knock what off?" asked Fred.

"You know what," said Molly.

"Haven't the slightest," said George. "Freddie, do you know?"

"No idea," I replied. "I didn't see a thing."

"Ugh," Molly sighed. "When we get back I don't want to hear another 'peep' out of you three for the rest of the night."

"Well then, I suppose we better get all of our 'peeps' out while we still can," said Fred.

"Peep, peep, peep," the three of us chirped.

Molly quickened her steps, huffing and puffing with fury. My short legs could barely keep up with Fred and George's lengthy strides. Ginny and I nearly had to run to not fall behind the others. When the Leaky Cauldron came into sight Ginny and I were gasping for breath from our literal jog. We must of all looked like a flustered hot mess when we fumbled into the bar to meet Arthur, Ron, Hermione, and Harry.

Ginny, who had always been very taken with Harry, seemed even more heartily embarrassed than usual when she saw him, perhaps because he had saved her life during their previous year at Hogwarts. She went very red (well, redder than she already was from the run) and muttered "hello" without looking at him. I smiled wisely and looked up at George, sending him an all-knowing wink. He grinned and nodded slightly in reply.

Harry and I had always had a bond. We weren't necessarily all that close, but we shared a connection that both of us didn't really even want. We had both suffered the loss of our parents and were the only survivors from their murders. Of course, Harry's circumstances are much different than mine, but we nonetheless have always had an unspoken understanding of each other.

Percy suddenly held out his hand solemnly as though he and Harry had never met and said, "Harry. How nice to see you."

"Hello, Percy," said Harry, trying not to laugh.

"I hope you are well?" said Percy pompously, shaking hands. It was like Harry was being introduced to a mayor or something.

"Very well, thanks—"

"Harry!" said Fred, elbowing Percy out of the way and bowing deeply. "Simply _splendid_ to see you, old boy—"

"Marvelous," said George, pushing Fred aside and seizing Harry's hand in turn. "Absolutely spiffing."

"Jolly good to make your acquaintance, old chap," I grinned broadly, shoving George aside and doing a mock curtsy. "Jolly good, indeed."

Percy scowled.

"That's enough, now," Molly scolded.

"Mum!" said Fred as though he'd only just spotted her and seizing her hand too. "How really corking to see you—"

"I said, that's enough," said Molly, depositing her shopping bags in an empty chair besides ours. "Hello, Harry, dear. I suppose you've heard our exciting news?" She pointed to the brand-new silver badge on Percy's chest. "Second Head Boy in the family!" she said, swelling with pride.

"And last," Fred muttered under his breath.

"I don't doubt that," said Molly, frowning suddenly. "I notice they haven't made you two prefects."

"Don't forget Winnie," said George. "You can't go on scolding us when she's just as guilty as we are most of the time."

"Winnie is not a boy," said Molly swiftly.

"Barely," George muttered under his breath. I elbowed him so hard in the gut I heard the wind escape his lungs at the sheer force. "Yeah, physical violence really screams femininity, Win."

"But why would we want to be prefects for?" I asked, revolted at the very idea. "It'd take all the fun out of life."

Ginny giggled.

"You want to set a better example for Ginny!" snapped Molly.

"They're not Ginny's only sources for example, Mother," said Percy loftily, polishing his badge with his breath. "Thank goodness."

"They could build monuments to your self-centeredness, Perce," I frowned.

"Winifred!" Molly scolded.

"Pay her no mind, Mother, she is only jealous of my success," said Percy, striding towards the stairs. "Now I'm going up to change for dinner, I'm not to be disturbed…"

"You're already disturbed," Fred mumbled, crossing his arms over his chest beside me.

He disappeared and George heaved a heavy sigh.

"We tried to shut him in a pyramid," George told Harry. "But Mum spotted us."

--

Dinner that night was an enjoyable affair. Tom the innkeeper put three tables together in the parlor, and the seven Weasleys, me, Harry, and Hermione ate our way through five delicious courses.

"How're we getting to King's Cross tomorrow, Dad?" asked Fred as we dug into some chocolate pudding."

"The Ministry's providing a couple cars," said Arthur.

Everyone looked up at him.

"Why?" asked Percy curiously.

"It's because of you, Perce," said George seriously. "And there'll be little flags on the hoods, with HB on them—"

"— for Humorless Braggart," I smirked.

"— more like Humongous Bighead," Fred added.

Everyone except Percy and Molly snorted into their pudding.

"Why is the Ministry providing cars, Father?" Percy asked again, in a more dignified voice.

"Well, as we haven't got one anymore," said Arthur. "— and as I work there, they're doing me a favor—"

His voice sounded casual, but I noticed Arthur's ears had gone red, just like all the Weasley boys did when under pressure.

"Good thing, too," said Molly briskly. "Do you realize how much luggage you've all got between you? A nice sight you'd be on the Muggle Underground…you are packed, aren't you?"

"If by packed you mean stuffing most of my things into Fred's trunk…then, yes, I'm packed," I smiled.

"Well, half your clothes are his anyway," Ron muttered.

I shot him a nasty look.

"And the other half are mine," George teased, poking my side.

"Shut it," I laughed lightly, pinching his arm.

"In all seriousness," Percy interrupted in a long-suffering voice. "Ron hasn't put his new things in his trunk yet. He's just dumped them on my bed."

"You'd better go and pack properly, Ron, because we won't have much time in the morning," Molly called down from the other end of the table. Ron scowled at Percy.

--

After dinner everyone felt very full and sleepy. One by one we made our way upstairs to our rooms to check our things for the next day. Well, that's what Molly thought at least. Little did she know that I had snuck into Ron and Percy's room, nicked Percy's Head Boy just before I came down for supper, and hid it inside George's pillowcase.

I picked up May off Fred's trunk and took her spot, placing her in my lap. George dug out the badge from his pillowcase while Fred locked the door behind us.

"I think Margarine's Magical Modifying Quill should do the trick," I smiled, pulling the device from the side compartment of Fred's trunk.

"Freddie, you read my mind," Fred grinned, taking the quill from my hand.

Fred sat down beside me on the trunk and caught the badge from George who had settled himself on the edge of his bed. I grinned broadly as I watched the metal letters appear on the emblem. Charlie had bought me the magical quill for my last birthday, and I had to admit that it was one of my favorite gifts I'd ever received.

"You know, you'd think having a brother as Head Boy would be an advantage," said George.

"Not when that brother is Percy," said Fred, still meticulously inscribing the badge.

Suddenly, we could hear Percy shouting at Ron from across the hall. He was accusing Ron of taking his prized possession off his nightstand and judging by the frantic movements it appeared that he was tearing the room apart in efforts to find it. I snickered to myself, scratching the top of May's furry black head affectionately. George eyed the door to make sure no one was coming.

"It's going to be weird after this year," I said, placing a sloppy kiss on May's head. "You know, after Percy graduates."

"If by 'weird' you mean 'better' then I completely agree," Fred muttered, still concentrating on perfecting his handwriting.

"No, I mean that'll make us the oldest ones at Hogwarts," I shrugged. "It'll just be us then Ron and Ginny."

"Don't get ahead of yourself, Freddie," said George. "We still have to make it through this year alive before we can start celebrating our superiority."

"And with _Bighead_ breathing down our necks that's not a guarantee," said Fred.

--

_**A/N: **I'm sorry it took me awhile for an update. I intended on updating on Saturday, but I was hungover as sin and didn't have it in me to get anything done. Anyways, I do have a third of the next chapter written, and I really like it so far. It starts to show a more meaningful relationship between Winnie and the twins, and her personality comes out for sure. I'll probably update once I reach 20 reviews just so I know you guys are still reading, and I'll have time to finish up the chapter in a decent amount of time._

_**PS:** I updated my profile...you should check it out ;)_

_**Coming Soon:** Molly gives Winnie a pleasantly unpleasant present, King's Cross Station and The Hogwart's Express, and the only boy who ever liked Winnie is revealed....you'll see and hopefully get a few laughs._

_**REVIEW.**_


	3. Chapter 3: The Hogwarts Express

_**Chapter Three**_

_The Hogwarts Express_

--

_Friends are those rare people who ask how  
you are and then wait for the answer._

--

The warm morning sun gradually woke me from my cataleptic state, artfully sneaking through the splintered shudders. Eyelids slowly opening, vision blurred, I rubbed my eyes with the heels of my palms. Once my eyes could focus I rolled over to face the two beds to my right. Hermione's was empty and pristine, Ginny's was the same except it was all but tidy. I had overslept, _again_. I groaned loudly as I propped myself up on my right elbow. I didn't wonder why neither of the girls had chosen not to wake me. They had realized from prior experience that I wasn't exactly a morning person...actually that was the understatement of the century. My brain couldn't function before eleven o'clock, it's science.

I could hear Percy shouting at the twins through the closed door. I heard him mention my name several times before he finally shut his bleeding trap. I was suddenly pleased I hadn't gotten up with the others. A pair of footsteps became audible, drawing nearer to my room as I pulled May up off my feet and into my lap. Fred and George barged in -without knocking- of course. I yawned, unfazed, watching Fred lock the door behind them and then literally jump on the end of my bed, nearly catapulting me in the air.

"Good morning to you, too," I said indignantly.

"Everyone is entitled to be a prick, but he abuses the privilege," said Fred, ignoring my sarcastic comment.

"I wager you're talking about Percy considering I could hear you lot yammering on from down the hall," I sighed.

"He's a self-made man who worships his creator," George added, plucking May from my arms so he could scratch her belly in his lap. I smiled at his joke, becoming slightly distracted with how much my elderly feline loved him. Her paws were bent, enjoying the feeling of fingernails against her fur.

"He'll be after you soon enough," said Fred, drawing my eyes back to his. "He knows you were in on his little promotion."

"And how could he have come to that conclusion?" I smirked.

Fred and George sent me matching looks as if to imply, _If-you-think-anyone-still-believes-you're-ever-NOT-involved-with-our-shenanigans-you're-off-your-bleeding-rocker. _I released a curt laugh and shrugged in reply.

"Well, he can sod off," I said, rolling my eyes. "I am in no mood to deal with him today. Summer is officially over, the worst day of the year."

"Well, he's exceptionally pissed off this morning," said George, smiling despite himself at the sound of May's purring. "Ron spilt tea on his photo of his lovely little girlfriend, _Penelope Clearwater_."

I immediately stuck my index finger in my open mouth to simulate me vomiting. I couldn't stand Penelope Clearwater, mostly because she was the female version of Percy. I heaved a heavy sigh and hung my legs off my bed and onto the hardwood floor. I pulled out a Chudley Canons sweatshirt, from under my bed, that I'd owned since I was twelve. The logo was almost completely worn away. Sniffing it to make sure it was an acceptable stench, I tugged it over my pajama camisole.

"She's hidden her face under the frame because her nose has gotten all blotchy," said Fred, looking over his shoulder at me as I pulled my uncombed hair through the neck hole.

"Her nose was already blotchy," I replied.

"No matter," said Fred, a smile beginning to cross his lips. "He was still royally ticked, so we gave Ron a congratulatory pat on the back in response for good measure."

"Remind me to do the same," I smirked. "Oh, did I completely miss breakfast by the way?"

"Mum sent us up with a plate of bacon and toast," said George.

"And?"

"And it was a long walk up the stairs," said George. "We got a bit hungry."

"How considerate," I laughed, unconcerned with my lack of breakfast.

"Well, at least we attempted to bring you food," said Fred. "Percy suggested Mum refuse the three of us any breakfast at all as punishment for his badge fiasco."

"What an arse," I sighed.

Suddenly, knocking was heard upon my door, one guess who. I looked from Fred to George and then headed to face our intruder. I twisted the knob slowly and only cracked the door about a foot or so, now face-to-face with Percy. His cheeks were quite rosy, matching his flaming red hair. I knew he was especially on edge because today was the first day of his term as Head boy. I smiled sweetly and batted my eyelashes.

"Speak of the devil," I beamed in the most obvious fake benevolent voice I could muster.

"Oh, I can only imagine the nasty things you were saying about me, _Winifred_," Percy seethed, emphasizing every syllable of my name.

"To the contrary, I was just describing you in terms which were positively glowing," I snapped, "which is exactly how I'd like to see you in Hell."

I heard a loud _THUD_. Out of the corner of my eye I saw Fred fall off of the bed and onto the floor. He and George were laughing so hard that no sound came out of their mouths, only gasps for air. Percy was staring daggers at them from over my shoulder while May scurried out between his legs, lucky cat.

"Charming," he replied. "Anyway, the reason I am here is because I believe you owe me an apology. Fred and George couldn't muster up the gall to do so themselves, and I came in hopes that you could be the bigger person of the three."

"Hm," I said, pointing my index finger to my chin in faux thought. "Well, Perce, let's see....Fred, George could I borrow you for a moment."

Fred and George, virtually reading my mind, took to their feet and stood side by side. I walked before them flattening my palm before my face and marking the top of my head against each of their chests, only coming up to their breast bones. I shrugged and sent Percy a disappointed glance, clicking my tongue on the inside of my cheek.

"Sorry, Perce, no such luck," I frowned. "It looks like I'm actually the smallest person out of the three of us."

"I am not leaving until I receive a proper apology," he snapped, crossing his arms over his chest and planting his feet.

I looked back at the twins, receiving a pair of winks, approving of our prearranged 'Plan B'. I abruptly grabbed my chest, sporting a revolted expression. Percy eyed me suspiciously as if I had gone mad.

"Molly!" I suddenly screamed at the top of my lungs, causing Percy to nearly jump out of his shoes.

"What is it, Winnie?" Molly bellowed from downstairs in a flustered tone. I didn't need to see her to know she was most likely busy making sure everyone's affairs were in order before we left for King's Cross.

"Percy is trying to see me naked!" I shouted in an aghast tone, making certain my voice could be heard throughout the entire inn. "Make him get out of my room!"

His jaw dropped, clearly he did not expect my reply. His mouth began opening and closing, his mind unable to process my random claim. His arms fell to his side.

"Percy," Molly scolded halfheartedly. "Leave Winnie be."

"B-But, Mum, she's lying," he yelled back down to her, breaking his proper exterior. "I was just―"

"I don't care what you two are going on about," she bellowed. "All I care about is getting the lot of you on the train before it leaves the station, and at this rate things aren't looking too good. Percy, come and put Hermes in the car. He's spitting up a storm at Hermione's _lovely_ little cat, and, Winnie, if you don't bring your trunk down here within the next five minutes we're leaving you behind."

"Yes, mam," I shouted back, narrowing my victorious gaze at Percy.

Percy shook his head defiantly, pivoting on his heel. His fists were clenched so tight I could see the lines indented along his knuckles. I imagined his arse was clenched just as tight. The thought brought a subconscious grin to my face. I heard him mutter something about us being, "Impossible, highly inappropriate, ignorant." I slammed the door closed after him, trying to make as much noise as humanly possible. Fred and George returned to their prior seats, still laughing at Percy's embarrassment.

"Brilliant," said Fred.

"I've been waiting for the opportunity for you to use that one," George snickered.

"I don't think I've ever seen his face go so red," I giggled.

I shoved George's dangling legs off my trunk and tossed in a couple stray pieces of laundry that I had thrown on the floor. My drunk was significantly smaller than the twins' mostly because I wore a lot of their clothes, and I didn't need all that much room for so few belongings. I was probably the furthest a person could be from being materialistic without stripping completely naked and rolling around in the mud or something. I grabbed my brush and hastily combed out the knots so I could put my hair in my usual lengthy pig tails.

I paused for a moment as I pulled one of my pigtails over my shoulder so my hair hung lazily down my chest. My fingers had slid against a sensitive spot on the back of my neck. It was sensitive not because I felt pain to the touch but because a scar occupied a small section down my neck, below my hairline. It was the only visible mark I bore from the night...the night I started living with the Weasleys. It was about four inches long and a quarter inch thick, and it was unfortunately visible from behind and from my side if my hair wasn't down. Molly didn't even find it until the day after I was dropped off because my hair had done a successful job in concealing it. Sometimes, late at night, I could still feel the same sharp pain I felt the night I received the scar.

It was a constant physical reminder of my past. I could never erase the mark on my neck, just as I could never erase my history. I had only two other links to my childhood with my Mother. One was obviously May and the other was my locket. It had belonged to my Mum, my Grandmother, her Mum before her and so on. It was the most... rather, the _only_ beautiful possession I owned. It was pure gold with tiny rose engravings around the edges. I loved it so much that I hadn't taken it off in twelve years.

"Freddie?" said George, eyeing me curiously in the reflection of the mirror. "You alright?"

"Yeah, fine," I said swiftly, quickly pulling my hand off my scar.

I put my brush in my trunk and grabbed my favorite pair of jeans. I looked from Fred to George with an implicative expression, they knew the drill. They both heaved exasperated sighs and shut their eyes, then covered them with a hand.

"No peeking," I warned humorously, rapidly pulling of my pajama shorts and jumping into my tattered jeans all the while keeping my eye on the slightest space between Fred and George's fingers. "Alright, you can look."

"I'd love to see the look on Mum's face if she knew you changed in front of us," said Fred.

"On a regular basis," George added. "I'm sure she would give you one hell of a lecture on how no respectable lady would do something so grossly inappropriate."

"Since when have I been respectable?"

"Or a lady," Fred joked, winking at me.

I stuck my tongue out at him, added my pajama shorts into my trunk, and sealed it shut.

"It isn't a big deal. I've known you two forever, you're like my brothers," I defended. "Besides I have you cover your eyes. It's not like you look, right?"

"Right," said Fred unconvincingly, lifting up one side of my trunk and George the other without me asking them to do so.

"George," I snapped, looking over at him for support.

"He's only joking," he laughed, pulling open the door.

I looked over at Fred who flashed me a quick wink.

"You're sure about that?" I asked, following them into the hall.

"As sure as I am that you have a heart shaped birthmark on your left butt cheek," said George.

I bit the inside of my cheek so hard that I knew there was no way that I didn't draw blood. They smiled innocently, shrugged, and started down the steps. I stood still staring after them for a moment. Well, that would be the last time I trusted them in that situation. Then I began wondering why I ever did. It should have been the twins' I tattled on to Molly earlier, though I'd sooner cut out my own tongue than sell them out to anyone. I laughed to myself, shaking my head, and rolled my eyes lightheartedly before scurrying after them.

_Boys._

–

We reached King's Cross with twenty minutes to spare; the Ministry drivers found us trolleys, unloaded our trunks, touched their hats to salute Arthur, and drove away, managing to jump ahead to an unmoving line at the traffic lights. I noticed Arthur kept close to Harry's elbow all the way into the station.

"Right then," he said, glancing around at the lot of us. "Let's do this in pairs, as there are so many of us. I'll go through first with Harry."

Looking about anxiously for any suspicious Muggles, Arthur led Harry through the barrier beside him. I looked to Ginny who automatically knew we were destined to be paired together. Ron would go with Hermione, Fred with George, and Ginny and I would sooner die than pair up with Percy. He'd have no objection going with Molly. I latched my arm in Ginny's and smiled at her, receiving a pleasant grin from her in return. Ginny and I had always been close. She'd been the most similar sibling to the twins'...personality wise, and I always found myself being a bit overprotective of her, well the twins were as well for that matter. She didn't always appreciate it, but I think she understood my heart was in the right place. Holding May close in my other arm, Ginny and I strode into the barrier.

In a moment, we looked up to see the Hogwarts Express, a scarlet steam engine, puffing smoke over a platform packed with witches and wizards seeing their children to the train. The twins suddenly appeared behind us, followed by Percy.

"Ah, there's Penelope!" said Percy, smoothing his hair and growing pink again. I caught Ginny's eye, we both turned away to hide our laughter as Percy strode over to Penelope with her long, curly hair, walking with his chest thrown out so that she couldn't miss his shiny badge that Molly had charmed back to its original title hours earlier.

Once Ron and Hermione joined the rest of us, Fred and George led the way to the end of the train, past packed compartments, to a carriage that looked quite empty. We loaded the trunks onto it, and went back outside to say good-bye to Molls and Arthur. She kissed all her children, then Hermione, then came to me before Harry. She took my face in her hands and kissed each of my cheeks and then hugged me tight.

"Do try to stay out of trouble, Winnie," she said.

"I'll _try_," I smiled, hugging her again and knowing all too well how little faith she had in my statement.

"Oh," said Molly abruptly, pulling something out from her bag. "I got you a little late birthday present."

"Molls, my birthday was four months ago," I said, pleading with her not to give whatever she had to me. "You already gave me―"

"Nonsense," said Molly, silencing me. "It is nothing big, and I suppose it is more of an investment than a present."

Molly handed me a soft tissue paper wrapped object. I looked at is suspiciously, looking back up at her.

"An investment?" I asked, pulling off the paper. I should have known what it was going to be before Molly even handed me the package. It was a blouse. No, not just a blouse, a pink blouse. It was actually quite pretty, not my style but still a very nice shirt. All I could say was, "It's pink."

"You don't like it," said Molly in a disappointed tone.

"No, I didn't say that," I said quickly. "I think it's very pretty."

"Will you wear it?"

"Sure," I lied, "but only on special occasions. I don't want to go mucking it up. Thank you, Molls, I appreciate it really."

Her bottom lip turned up into her top one, happy I at least appeared to like her gift.

"You're welcome, dear," said Molly. "Have a good year, and I love you."

"I love you, too," I smiled.

–

"We're in here," George called, waving at me from the compartment.

"Well, obviously," I laughed, walking towards him. "Do you think I'm that barmy that you honestly believe I could get lost on the way back to our compartment?"

He sent me a look before I went inside as if to say _Do-You-Really-Want-Me-To-Answer-That_? I smirked and affectionately patted his chest as I walked by him. A broad grin came across my face as soon as I laid eyes on our new occupant, sitting beside Fred: Lee Jordan.

"Lee," I said for good measure as he rose to give me a quick hug.

"Hey there, Freddie," he beamed, wrapping his lengthy arm around my shoulders. "I told George you didn't get lost."

"George has no idea what he's talking about," I said, shooting him a glare as he closed the sliding door. "When he, himself, couldn't find his own arse with two hands and a map."

"Speaking of maps," said Fred, pulling a brochure of parchment from inside his jacket. "Mum nearly got a hold of this wonderful gift from God this morning. Had to tell her it was a Zonko's product."

I slid Molly's gift into my luggage and then plopped myself down beside George, letting May crawl into his lap. He began to carelessly stroke her back as the train left the station, rain beginning to trickle against the glass windows. I yearned for the sun to return. Of course it had to be disgusting outside on the first day back to school, how utterly cliché. I pulled one of my legs up against my chest and rested my chin atop my kneecap, clutching it close.

"So how was your summer, Lee?" I asked.

"Uneventful compared to your lots', I wager," he replied. "I saw your picture in the _Prophet_."

"Yeah, Egypt was fun," said Fred. "Winnie almost got killed by a Sphinx."

"Did not," I objected.

"The three of us spotted one when we went off exploring a tomb," said George, pointing his thumb at me. "and Miss Nosey Parker, over here, just_ had_ to get a closer look at it."

"It gave her a riddle," Fred added. "You know, because that's what they do to decide whether or not they're going to rip your head off or not."

"What can be measured but has no length, width or thickness?" George quoted.

"Temperature," I replied.

"Good thing you were right," said Fred. "Because _Mum_ would have murdered us if you came back without a head, and Merlin knows she's more terrifying than any Sphinx."

"Oh, whatever," I said. "That Sphinx was cool, and you know it."

They shrugged, trying to hide their smiles and failing miserably at it. I heaved a heavy sigh and took to my feet.

"I'm going to find the trolley and find something to eat," I said, "considering a pair of scavengers ate my breakfast. Do you lot want anything?"

"Chocolate frogs," the three of them said in unison.

I smiled and nodded, sliding open the door and striding into the hallway. I spotted the kind-faced, pudgy witch that provided us with our sweets at the very end of the hall. My hand got stuck inside my pocket as I tried to fidget out my Knuts from my jeans. I apparently wasn't looking where I was going because I ran square into an immovable object. I nearly toppled onto my backside, feeling as if I'd hit a brick wall. I regained my balance and looked up at what had blocked my path. I couldn't prevent the left side of my upper lip from curling in disgust at the gorilla-looking being before me. It was Graham Montague, the most foul creature I have ever had the displeasure of knowing. He eclipsed my small frame, towering over me like a giant. He was as tall as Fred and George but weighed as much as the two of combined. He had rather hairy forearms and a ridiculously defined jawline, his eyes so dark they gave the illusion of two lumps of coal. I struggled not to gag. He smiled seductively at me, crossing his arms over his chest.

"Montague," I frowned. "Aren't you a parasite for sore eyes?"

"Ah, McKinnon, are you free tonight or will it cost me?" he smirked.

"Piss off, Graham," I spat, attempting to side step him, but he blocked my way again.

"Come now, Winnie," he grinned. "I haven't seen you all summer. Didn't you miss me?"

"How could I miss you when every moment you're in my presence I have the fierce desire to be lonesome?" I snapped.

He released his deep, trademark laugh that made my skin crawl. No matter how many times I rejected his inbred-arse he just refused to take the hint. To him, my rejection was foreplay. My inability to find him the slightest bit attractive actually turned him on. I tried to bypass him again with no avail.

"What is it that you want exactly, Montague?" I seethed, venom dripping from every syllable.

"I just want to_ talk_ to you," he smiled seductively, curling his callused finger around a strand of my hair.

"Oh, _talk_? Is that what they're calling it these days?" I replied snidely, swatting his hand away. "Well, _talking_ to you sounds about as appealing as playing leapfrog with unicorns. Now, get out of my way."

Montague slammed his monstrous hand against the wall, making it perfectly clear that he had no intention of letting me pass. I gritted my teeth, my jaw protruding forward a bit, eyes ablaze.

"Ah, you know me so well, Winnie," Montague whispered, running his knuckles from his free hand tenderly along my jawline. I closed my eyes and imagined myself somewhere else. "Haven't you ever thought about _it_, wondered what _it_ would be like―"

"No, have you ever wondered what your life would be like if you'd had enough oxygen at birth?" I seethed.

I turned my neck swiftly and bit his finger as hard as I could until he pulled back in pain, clutching his injured fingers in his other hand. I smiled despite myself, quite proud of my quick defense.

"Still feisty I see," he snapped, walking towards me.

I took a step backwards, suddenly regretting my retaliation. I could usually take care of myself, but Graham Montague was an enormous troll of a person. I stumbled into another immovable object, however, I wasn't revolted by this one.

"Alright, McKinnon?" asked Oliver Wood, raising a suspicious brow at Montague and stepping in front of me.

"Yeah," I replied, feeling rather embarrassed. "Montague, here, and I were just discussing a bit of Quidditch."

"Uh huh," he said in disbelief, clicking the inside of his cheek whilst keeping his eyes glued on the Slytherin Quidditch Captain. "Going to the trolley?"

"Yeah," I repeated, looking at my feet like a four year old.

"So am I," he said, narrowing his glare on Graham. "I'll walk you."

I simply nodded and followed him, sliding by Montague. I could feel his eyes on me, but I stared straight ahead. Wood looked back at his rival Captain over his shoulder and sent him a curt nod to assert his authority. I heard a compartment door slam shut, and with that Montague was gone. This was unfortunately not a one time occurrence. Graham Montague had been utterly obsessed with me since we were eleven years old. I don't exactly know what my appeal is. I read somewhere gypsy moths release a sort of pheromone that attracts a specific mate. Maybe I'm his gypsy moth. That sounds stupid, but I have no other explanation. He was the only boy that ever liked me and that was extremely embarrassing.

He was awful, vile, insufferable. He was like an octopus, his disgusting tentacles always attempting to grope me. He didn't used to be as bad when we were younger. His obsession used to just be a sort of disturbing crush but it managed to somehow develop into a creepy stalker sort of relationship that made me uncomfortable to be alone anywhere near him. The twins liked to try to act like they were doing me some sort of favor by trying to protect me from him but it only egged him on. The year before last he grabbed my bottom while I was walking to Hogsmeade with the twins and Fred and George by splitting his lip. McGonagall "forgot" to give them detention for their little outburst.

"You didn't have to do that," I said to Oliver, handing my Knuts to the trolley witch after selecting my sweets. "I could have taken care of him myself."

"Well, I couldn't let anything happen to one of my Chasers," he smirked, picking up a licorice wand, "and no you couldn't."

"Yes, I could have," I objected, a defiant smile spreading across my lips.

"You're tough, McKinnon," he chuckled, receiving his change from the witch. "I'll give you that, but that barbarian is four times your size. He would have pummeled you."

"I don't think he want to pummel me," I said seriously, turning back towards my compartment.

"Then what do you think he was trying to do then?" he asked, furrowing his brow.

"Kiss me," I shrugged.

Oliver snorted into a fit of laughter. I joined in and lightly punched his arm in jest.

"I think that's even worse," he chuckled.

"It is," I nodded, gripping my hand on the sliding door to my compartment. "Well thanks for the _un_necessary security, Wood, see you."

"No problem," he laughed, striding down towards his own designated compartment. "I'm always here if you _don't_ need me. See you first practice, McKinnon."

I entered the compartment and closed the door behind me, tossed two chocolate frogs to each of the boys and sat down beside George. May climbed up into my lap as I nibbled on one of my three chocolate frogs. I fed her small bites of a licorice wand I had purchased just for her, knowing they were her favorite.

"What took you so long?" asked Fred, biting the head off his frog.

"I ran into someone," I said casually, hoping the subject would be dropped.

No such luck.

"Who?" Lee inquired, chomping off a frog leg.

"Just Montague―"

"Is he bothering you again?" said George swiftly, nearly choking on his treat.

"It wasn't a big deal," I said calmly. "You know how he is―"

"Did he lay a hand on you?" asked Fred, looking at me so sternly I almost swallowed my own tongue.

I didn't say anything. I just bit my lower lip, but that was all the confirmation the twins needed. Fred, George, and Lee dropped their spare frogs and took to their feet, darting towards the door. I held May against my chest and slid in front of them to black the exit. They looked at me with fire in their eyes, but I stood my ground.

"Get out of the way, Winnie," said George, trying to reach the handle from behind me.

"No," I snapped. "You're being overdramatic. I took care of him."

"Maybe you're not being dramatic enough," said Fred, finally pushing me to the side. "You're so damn stubborn―"

"I bit him," I said quickly as my last objection.

They froze and twisted their necks to the side to look at me.

"You bit him?" they said simultaneously.

"Yeah," I laughed. "I bit him."

The three of them shared matching humorous looks and began laughing amongst themselves. Fred closed the door and they returned to their seats, as did I.

"You may need a shot," said Lee. "Merlin only knows what sort of diseases that Neanderthal has."

"Did you make him bleed?" asked Fred.

"I don't know," I shrugged. "He was holding his fingers in his other hand as soon as I did it. I do know it hurt like hell. I've got the K9 teeth of a vampire." I pointed to my to sharp pearly whites.

"Good," said George, no humor in his voice this time.

"You best tell us next time he―" Fred started.

However, he was interrupted by the abrupt shriek of the breaks of the train. The rain had thickened as the rain sped yet farther north; the windows were now a solid, shimmering gray, which had gradually darkened until the lanterns flickered into life along the corridors and over the luggage racks. The train rattled, the rain hammered, and the wind roared, yet I hadn't noticed it until that moment.

"Why are we stopping?" said Lee. "We can't be there already."

The train was getting slower and slower. As the noise of the pistons fell away, the wind and rain sounded louder than ever against the windows. Lee, who was nearest to the door, got up to look into the corridor. All along the carriage, heads were sticking curiously out of the compartments. The train came to a stop with a jolt, and distant thuds and bangs led us to believe luggage had fallen off of several racks within the compartments. Then, without warning, all the lamps went out and we were plunged into total darkness.

"What's going on?" I said, my breath suddenly visible before my face in frozen puffs.

I placed my palm against the window, feeling the sudden icy coating of the glass. There was no feasible reason for us to be stopping, no reason at all. I rubbed away some of the condensation with my thumb, squinting to make out some sudden movement along the tracks. I felt Fred and George leaning over my shoulders to catch a glimpse, as well. My stomach tightened when I saw someone or something climbing onto the train.

"Someone is coming aboard the train," Fred whispered, more to himself than to anyone of us.

I held May against my chest as I jerked back in my seat again, feeling her steady purring over my sweatshirt. I was glad it was too dark to see anything because I was certain the twins would have ridiculed me mercilessly for how wide my eyes must have looked.

"Something isn't right," said George. "We shouldn't be―"

But the door slid open before George could finish. Standing in the doorway, was a cloaked figure that towered to the ceiling. Its face was completely hidden beneath its hood. My eyes darted downward, and saw what made my stomach contract. There was a hand protruding from the cloak and it was glistening, grayish, slimy-looking, and scabbed, like something dead that had decayed in water. We'd read about these grotesque beings the previous year (one of the few things we learned from that git, Gilderoy Lockhart). It was a dementor, a guardian of Azkaban.

But it was visible only for a split second. As though the creature beneath the hood, the dementor, drew a long, slow, rattling breath, as though it were trying to suck something more than air from its surroundings. An intense cold swept over me. I felt my breath catch in my chest. The cold ran deeper than just my skin. It was engulfing my chest, consuming my very heart…

Then the screaming began. It was so distant, yet so close and piercing in my ears. Everyone on the train must have been panicking at once. May leapt from my arms, hissing viciously at the creature, as I reached my trembling hands up to cover my ears. My mouth open slightly, my jaw locking in pain. I'm certain I must have released a faint moan, but it couldn't have been audible with all of the screaming, the bloodcurdling screaming. I closed my eyes so tight that it physically hurt, my fingernails were clawing the side of my face.

_"Marley, they're coming!" a woman's screamed frantically. "Take Winnie _― _GO!"_

_I could only see darkness. I was being carried, running through a maze of hallways. Heavy breaths, footsteps, and cries rang in my ears. Flashes of green light were the only sources of illumination. The door behind me slammed shut, locking automatically. A booming set of footsteps were coming, growing louder and louder._

_"It's going to be alright, Winnie," she whispered fiercely, cupping my face to look at her, "I promise." I couldn't see her. It was too dark. Why couldn't I just see her eyes one more time? Why can't I remember her eyes? Why was it so bloody dark?_

_The doorknob began to jiggle furiously. The bloodcurdling screams grew so loud that I couldn't bare it. I covered my ears with my tiny hands, begging the heavens for it all to stop. Please, God, let it all be over. The screams, the awful screams. I cannot bare them another moment. _

"Stop," I muttered aloud, shaking my head from side to side. "Please, stop!"

I felt a hand on either of my bent elbows, jerking my hands away from my ears. My eyes opened abruptly, darting around like mad. The lights had been illuminated again, and the train was slowly in motion once more. My chest was rising and falling so rapidly that I was surprised that I was still conscious. My entire body was trembling from head to toe. My vision was blurry initially, light was all I saw but gradually the blurs and muffled sounds became lucid again. George was knelt before me, an expression so serious across his face that I barely recognized him. He struggled to pull my hands away from my ears, it was as if I was paralyzed.

"Winnie, Winnie," he pleaded, finally yanking my arms to my sides. "Snap out of it!"

My tongue felt swollen, my throat as dry as the Sahara. I couldn't speak. All that came out off my mouth was a load of nonsensical jibber jabber. I tried to swallow, but I produced no saliva. George cupped my face in his hands, his own face appeared terrified.

"Fred and Lee went to get someone," said George frantically. "Why don't you lie down."

"N-No," I managed to choke out, shaking my head. "I-I'm f-fine."

"No, you're not," he replied.

"Yes-I-Am," I insisted in a tone that came across much meaner than I intended.

I pushed his hands away and scooted myself into the corner, sitting against the window with my knees curled up to my chest. I stared out into the darkness, replaying the horrifying images inside my head. The compartment door slid open, revealing an extremely fretful looking Fred followed by a disheveled looking man with tattered robes, Lee in toe. I kept my eyes glued outside the window, rocking back and forth in my seat, clutching my knees close against my chest.

"Freddie," said Fred tentatively, placing his hand gently on my shoulder. "You alright?"

I nodded slowly, refusing to turn to face him. I knew, without having to look over them, that Fred looked at George and mouthed something about me to him. I felt extremely foolish and angry that they had gone to fetch help for me. I never liked to appear weak, _ever_.

"Winifred, is it?" said the man, my manners forcing me to make eye contact with him.

"Yes," I breathed shallowly.

"I'm Professor Lupin," he smiled kindly, extending his palm to me. "Here, have some chocolate. It helps, I promise."

I tentatively accepted a piece of chocolate from his hand and took a small bite. He was right. I felt as if my insides were being warmed beside a fire. My chest didn't feel as contracted and the horrific images began to disappear before my eyes. I nodded my thanks and smiled feebly up at him.

"It was searching the train for Sirius Black, wasn't it?" I asked quietly.

"Yes," said Lupin, handing me another piece of chocolate. "I imagine Professor Dumbledore will not be responding favorably to its presence on the train. They're dreadful creatures, you know, the worst."

"Why was Freddie more...er― effected by it?" asked George.

Lupin looked at me before returning his gaze to George.

"Well, it seems that those with more traumatic pasts have much stronger reactions once they come in contact with a dementor," said Lupin, clearing his throat at the end of his sentence. "Mr. Potter appeared to have even lost consciousness in consequence to its presence."

"Is Harry alright?" I asked.

"Yes, of course," he reassured me, "nothing a bit of chocolate couldn't fix. I'm going to go back and check up on him now, no worries. I entrust these three kind gentlemen will make sure you finish up those chocolate frogs, we'll be arriving in ten minutes or so."

"Thanks, Professor," I said.

"You're quite welcome," he nodded, backing out the door. "I'll see you all in class soon."

He closed the door behind him and a silence ensued that was so awkward every drop of rain sounded like a bomb. I cleared my throat, let my legs fall back onto the floor and picked May up off the ground. I tried to act as if the last fifteen minutes didn't happen, but I feared my act was a failure.

"You gave us quite the scare there, Win," said George, looking at me sideways.

"It wasn't intentional," I said. "That screaming was just so loud I thought my head was going to explode."

The three boys exchanged confused expressions, none of them speaking.

"What?" I asked, eyeing them curiously.

"There wasn't any screaming, Winnie," said George, his eyes almost filled with fear.

–

**A/N: **_This chapter was ridiculously long compared to the others. I hope you enjoyed it, because I think this was one of my favorite chapters I have ever written for any of my fictions ever. Ha! I am pretty much in love with this fic, and I hope you lot are enjoying it too. Winnie is pretty much my fave. I hope you guys got a few laughs. I did when I was writing it._

**PS:**_I hope that her first encounter with Oliver wasn't as random as the one in the other fic. Let me know what your opinion is though, and I'm really liking the whole Montague thing too. Do any of you get the connection? I'll give you a hint...a 5__th__ book prank involving the troublesome duo.... Anyways...are you liking Winnie's character more or less than the original? Also was the dementor scene OK? I was trying to show a different angle of her friendship with the twins, but I don't know if I pulled it off._

**PSS:** _I spent a lot of time and effort into this chapter, and I hope you review in response to that...oh, and check out my updated profile :)_

**Coming Soon: **_The Feast, the gang meets up with the girls and the trio, classes begin, Ron loves May, Winnie is a prodigy in the one subject she despises, Quidditch begins, mayhem undoubtedly ensues..._

_--_

_**Review **__& I'll update.  
__Please do, because I so very  
__much do want to update.  
+10 should do the trick.  
__Thanks so much!  
__Love always,  
__Milena_


	4. Chapter 4: The Sorting Ceremony

_**Chapter Four**_

_The Sorting Ceremony_

--

_Our most difficult task as a friend is to off  
__understanding when we don't understand. _

–

Like Lupin had said, we arrived at Hogwarts not long after the train went into motion again. We had quickly changed into our robes, me making sure to change in the lavatory this time. Before we knew it the scarlet engine came to a halt, signaling for all of us to gather our things. I was still rather shaky.

"You mean, you three didn't hear anything?" I asked anxiously, feeling a bit awkward.

"No," said Fred, extending his hand to help me off the train's metal steps. I shook him off and unintentionally opted to nearly fall on my face in the process if Lee wouldn't have grabbed onto the back of my robes from behind me.

"Nothing?" I repeated, taking May from George's arms. "Not even—"

"No, Freddie," he insisted gently, leading the way towards the carriages. "There wasn't any screaming."

"Firs' years this way!" called a familiar voice. We didn't have to squint to see the gigantic outline of Hagrid at the end of the platform, beckoning the terrified-looking new students forward for their traditional journey across the lake. I couldn't remember being the slightest bit frightened on my first trip to Hogwarts, I wager that was only because I had Fred and George by my side and three other Weasleys who had already gone through the same thing to relate to. I could imagine why most first years were intimidated, however, especially considering Hagrid and McGonagall are your welcome wagon.

We walked the rough mud track, where at least a hundred stagecoaches awaited the lot of us. A cold chill shot up my spine, as it always did, once I laid eyes on the thestrals that led the carriages. I'd nearly convinced myself I'd gone mad when I first saw the beasts when I was twelve. They were eerie creatures, really, like decrepit horses. I knew thestrals weren't hostile creatures, but that didn't make them any more pleasant to look at. I'd grown used to them over the years. My eyes remained fixed upon the invisible beings as I climbed in last, after the three boys. The carriage shook forward and backward as the creatures motioned that they were anxious to start the trek to Hogwarts.

"The coaches don't usually move about so much," said Fred quietly from beside me. "What are they doing?"

"It must be because they're not used to the dementors being around", I said, watching as the beast's hoofs thumped against the cool earth. "They look even more restless than you think they are."

"I'm glad I can't see them," said Lee. "I saw a sketch of one in our Care of Magical Creatures book, and they look a right bit manky if you ask me."

"They're not so bad," I said softly.

Finally, after what seemed like an eternity. The carriages began their trek towards Hogwarts, and to my dismay, as we approached the enormous gates leading into the grounds there were several more dementors guarding the entrance. I instantly felt the ice cold, soul-sucking feeling that I had succumb to earlier. I noticed Fred and George were mouthing something to each other, but my mind was to foggy to distinguish the syllables.

"Scoot towards the middle, Winnie," said Fred, urging me to be as far from the monsters as possible.

"Absolutely not, you're being overdramatic," I replied hastily.

Before I could physically object, Fred had wrapped his arm around my waist and forcefully slid me in the middle of the carriage as we passed by the dementors. I clenched my fists as my jaw became extremely rigid. I didn't want anyone to treat me like some bleeding damsel in distress, and that was what I'd already appeared as earlier. I shoved myself back against the other side of the coach once he loosened his grip on me as soon as we passed the beasts, rolling my eyes in protest. The cold, depressing feeling that engulfed the air was lifted though I was too annoyed to notice.

"Never do that again," I insisted.

"I've never listened to you before," Fred smirked. "Why start now?"

--

The entrance hall was crammed with familiar faces, an overwhelming buzz rang in my ears from the inability to distinguish what each individual person was saying. I released May, knowing she was anxious to return to her home away from home. Then we began to flood into the Great Hall, I tried helplessly to look for Harry, knowing he had an unfortunate incident at the decrepit hand of the Dementor as well. I looked up at the twins, who towered over the others without having to try.

"Do you see Ron, Harry, or Hermione?" I asked, looking up at them.

"Er— I'm right here," said Ron, suddenly appearing from behind us.

"Alright then, Ronniekins?" asked Fred.

"Where are your mates?" added George.

"Dunno," Ron shrugged. "McGonagall called them away with her."

"Is Harry alright?" I asked.

"Yeah," Ron replied. "He sort of fainted when the Dementor came in our compartment, but he seemed to be fine now. It was weird though, he said he heard screaming or something."

I felt Fred and George's eyes on me in an instant, but I refused to meet their gaze. They knew I didn't want to acknowledge that I had a similar experience to anyone who wasn't there for the actual event. George cleared his throat and plastered a smile on his face, ruffling his younger brother's hair.

"Oh, yeah, that is weird," said George halfheartedly, leading the lot of us towards our usual seats at our usual table.

I sat down in between the twins, Lee on the other side of the table and Ron on the opposite side of Fred. I was so hungry that I could feel my stomach spasming despite my efforts to control my appetite. The chocolate frogs hadn't filled me up, and I still hadn't eaten a full meal all day. It wasn't but a minute later that we had three more additions to our group, Angelina Johnson, Alicia Spinnet, and Katie Bell. I smiled broadly, having not seen them since the end of the school year.

I'd always been exceptionally close to Angelina, and I don't exactly have a specific reason to why. We'd played Quidditch together since we were younger, though we'd been friends since we were eleven. I think it must have had to do with the fact that she was the second closest female to the twins and I. She and Fred had always had a bit of a -thing- for one another, leaving George and I...well, to ourselves I suppose. Besides Fred, George, and Lee I would definitely agree that Angie was my closest mate, maybe even closer than Lee. She was the only female I could claim as one of my best friends, excluding Ginny of course. Don't get me wrong, I adore Katie and Alicia completely, they're bloody fantastic friends, but we'd never grown the bond I had with the others.

"Hey, you lot," Angelina beamed.

"Hey," we replied, Fred's tone the slightest bit dreamy.

"How were your summers?" asked Katie. "I saw your picture in _The Prophet_. I wager Egypt was brilliant?"

"It was completely wicked," the three us said in unison, then peering at each other with prideful grins for our simultaneous response.

"You know, it's rather annoying when you do that," said Ron, stopping mid-sentence whilst talking to Dean and Seamus.

"Shut it, Ronniekins," we replied, sending each other the same pleased grins as before.

Ron rolled his eyes and returned to his conversation with his two friends. The three of us snickered before returning our attention to the others. It appeared that the three girls had realized at that moment that Ron had saved two seats beside him, and was without his pair of companions.

"I wager it's true then?" said Alicia in a hushed tone, leaning over the table slightly. "Harry fainted on the train because of the dementors?"

"Yeah," George grunted, implying his distaste for the subject. "Those grotty beasts nearly did a number on me, as well. Feels like they're sucking the happiness straight out of you, no one can blame him."

"I just can't believe the Ministry is allowing them to stick the ruddy beasts on the grounds," said Katie.

"Are you joking?" George snorted. "The Ministry is probably why they're here to begin with."

The others nodded in reply. I smirked slightly up at George, silently praising him for his most likely unintentional gallant gesture before, and squeezed his knee under the table to thank him without words. I felt him pat my leg as if to say, "Don't mention it, mate." We exchanged stories about our summers until the first years began to file in after McGonagall, some looking rather mortified. They all clustered together towards the four legged stool, holding the Sorting Hat. Their makeshift line reached all the way to the third table, which was one after ours.

"That one looks a bit like you, Freddie," Fred smirked, nudging my side to get me to look at the most terrified-looking eleven year old I had ever seen. "You know, when you see a bar of soap."

I punched his arm and laughed despite myself along with George. I noticed a particularly snotty-looking little boy whisper something about "Freddie" to the terrified little boy Fred had compared to me. The frightened child didn't even blink, trembling with his arms stiff at his side. I whipped my leg over the bench and stared daggers at the rude little bugger.

"My name is _WiniFRED_, cease _FREDdie_," I snapped. "Obviously my parents would not have named me that, you barmpot."

The boy merely rolled his eyes and shrugged carelessly, turning back to McGonagall as the Sorting Hat began its song.

"You have to admit it is a brilliant name," said Fred, elbowing my arm.

"It's alright, I suppose," I teased.

"He probably just thought you were a bloke and was commenting on how jealous he was of it," George added. "Simple mistake, really."

"Oh, shut it," I hissed, trying to hush them after noticing the death glare McGonagall was sending us for talking during the Hat's song. McGonagall had always had a watchful eye on the three of us and for good reason. I wager we'd broken the record for most detentions in a seven year stay at Hogwarts in less than 5 years, something we'd seen as an achievement actually. McGonagall, however, didn't see our antics so glorious. I still liked the elderly Transfiguration professor nonetheless. Molly had told me she was the one who brought me to them on the night of my Mum's death, and she was even one of the first people to find me...I do remember that, actually, though I wish I didn't.

Midway through the Hat's song I felt George nudge me, tilting his head back over his shoulder. I eyed him curiously until I spotted his wand out under the table, pointed directly at the Slytherin table, specifically at Graham Montague.

"Do it," I whispered, smiling wickedly.

He muttered a spell under his breath and there was no need to even look over because the loud noise that George had caused was enough. Graham had toppled over in his seat, nearly doing a backwards somersault before his robes magically flung over his head like a vicious blanket. The attacking robe was my doing, however. McGonagall looked from Graham to the pair of us, knowing exactly what had happened. She opted not to interrupt the end of the song, choosing to hold her palm open and mouth "five points" to us from behind the Hat. George and I looked at each other, not the slightest bit fazed with mischievous smirks before putting away our wands. We'd already lost points for the House before the Hat had finished its song, a new record.

"Worth it," we said in unison.

Finally, the Sorting Hat had stopped its rhyme and signaled for the sorting to begin. McGonagall strolled before the stool, scroll of names in hand, and cleared her throat loudly. I felt sorry for the first name called, as I always did, especially because it was terrified boy I had seen before.

"Abernathy, Adam," she bellowed.

"GRYFFINDOR!"

"I swear I'm going to eat my arm before she gets through the bloody list," I heard Ron mutter from across the table. I nearly laughed at how unbelievable his appetite was. I was hungry because I hadn't eaten much all day, but Ron had eaten like a cow and still could eat an entire feast. I drifted off in my own thoughts, ignoring Fred and George's mocking of the frightened faces of each of the students before they sat upon the stool.

"MacDonald, Pauline," McGonagall continued.

"HUFFLEPUFF!"

My chin fell forward off my fist, almost causing my forehead to hit the tabletop. I blinked several times to keep myself awake. Then I saw the snotty little boy from before adjust his robes and prepare for his name to be called, clearly judging the alphabetical order.

"Porter, Simon," McGonagall called.

Fred pulled a Sickle out of his pocket a set it on the table.

"Sickle on Slytherin," he smirked.

George, Lee and I did the same.

"Slytherin," George agreed.

"The barmy bloke is a Hufflepuff for sure," said Lee.

I stared at the boy for a moment as he sat upon the stool, watching him keep his eyes forward whilst McGonagall prepared to place the hat on his head. I slammed my coin on the table, an all-knowing grin on my face.

"Ravenclaw," I said.

After several seconds the Hat bellowed Simon Porter's House.

"RAVENCLAW!"

I smiled victoriously, wallowing in boys' disappointed expressions and slid the Sickles towards me and into my pocket.

"How did you wager he'd be a Ravenclaw?" asked Fred.

"Well, he's too arrogant to be a Muggleborn, seeing as he didn't appear the slightest bit intimidated," I said, eyeing the rest of the children as McGonagall called them to take their turns. "But he isn't a Pureblood either because he didn't shun that frightened, obviously Muggleborn boy beside him. He must be a Half-Blood or—"

"The three of us are Purebloods, Miss Know-It-All," Fred teased, gesturing at me, himself, and George. "But we weren't placed in Slytherin, your little theory is irrelevant."

"I wasn't finished," I smirked. "I wasn't implying that your blood determines what House you're placed in, you tosspot, clearly that isn't always the case. I was saying that he couldn't be in Slytherin because he didn't ignore that Muggleborn earlier, his little pompous personality and curiosity didn't fit in the other two Houses so it had to be Ravenclaw."

"Yeah, whatever," Fred chuckled, flicking his wrist at me. "It was just a lucky guess and you know it."

"Whatever you want to believe," I smiled slyly.

Suddenly, I spotted Harry and Hermione scurrying into the Great Hall. Harry looked quite ill and Hermione as flustered as Harry looked pale. They'd missed the Sorting and were climbing into their seats beside Ron just as Dumbledore stood from his seat.

"Welcome!" said Dumbledore, the candlelight shimmering on his beard. "Welcome to another year at Hogwarts! I have a few things to say to you all, and as one of them is very serious, I think it is best to get it out of the way before you become befuddled by our excellent feast..."

Dumbledore cleared his throat and continued, "As you will all be aware after their search of the Hogwarts Express, our school is presently playing host to some of the dementors of Azkaban, who are here on Ministry of Magic business."

_Knew it._

"They are stationed at every entrance to the grounds," Dumbledore continued, "and while they are with us, I must make it plain that nobody is to leave school without permission. Dementors are not to be fooled by tricks or disguises — or even Invisibility Cloaks," he added blandly. "It is not in the nature of a dementor to understand pleading or excuses. I therefore warn each and every one of you to give them no reason to harm you. I look to the prefects, and our new Head Boy and Girl, to make sure that no student runs afoul of the dementors," he said.

Percy, who was sitting a few seats down from us, puffed out his chest again and stared around impressively. Fred gripped his robe and mimicked his pompous motions, gaining stifled giggles from the six of us. Dumbledore paused again; he looked very seriously around the hall, and nobody moved or made a sound.

"On a happier note," he continued, "I am pleased to welcome two new teachers to our ranks this year. First, Professor Lupin, who has kindly consented to fill the post of Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher."

There was scattered, rather unenthusiastic applause. Only those who had met the shabby looked wizard on the train seemed to be clapping hard. I felt Fred's elbow nudge my side and nod his forehead towards Professor Snape while he continued to clap for Professor Lupin. It was common knowledge that Snape would sell his worthless soul to the devil to become the Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher. Therefore, when Fred brought Snape's loathing expression to my attention while Lupin took to his feet. I had to admit that I received the slightest bit of pleasure every time Snape was overlooked for his desired position each and every year.

"As to our second new appointment," Dumbledore continued as lukewarm applause for Lupin died away. "Well, I am sorry to tell you that Professor Kettleburn, our Care of Magical Creatures teacher, retired at the end of last year in order to enjoy more time with his remaining limbs. However, I am delighted to say that his place will be filled by none other than Rubeus Hagrid, who has agreed to take on this teaching job in addition to his gamekeeping duties."

Everyone was rather surprised before they began clapping, much more enthusiastic than before. The Gryffindor table in particular displayed tumultuous applause while the ruby-red faced Hagrid stared down at his hands with a smile hidden in the tangle of his black beard. Just after Dumbledore started speaking again, Hagrid wiped his eyes with the tablecloth.

"Well, I think that's everything of importance," said Dumbledore. "Let the feast begin!"

The golden plates and goblets before us filled with food and drink. I helped myself to everything I could reach and began to stuff my face... table manners were never really my forte. It was a delicious feast; the hall echoed with talk, laughter, and the clanging of knifes and forks. Once my stomach felt as if it was about to burst the overwhelming desire to sleep engulfed my entire body. My eyelids sagged as the last morsels of pumpkin tart had melted from the golden platters, Dumbledore gave the word that it was time for us to head off to bed. I'd never been so pleased to be sent to bed.

Angelina locked arms with me and unknowingly led me along with our group because my vision was too blurred from fatigue to function on my own. She was going on about Quidditch...or maybe it was her shoes. I don't know. However, I was abruptly forced wide awake when George's eejit arse tickled my sides, knowing all too well how ticklish I was. I laughed against my will until I fought him off, punching his arm in retaliation with a laugh still escaping my lips.

"Knock it off," Percy snaped as he passed by us, making his way up the marble staircase. Everyone appeared quite exhausted as all the Gryffindor's congregated outside the entrance to Gryffindor tower. The large portrait of the fat lady, wearing her usual pink dress asked, "Password?"

"Coming through, coming through!" we heard Percy shout from several steps before us, fighting his way through the crowd. "The new password's 'Fortuna Major'!"

Through the portrait hole and across the common room, the girls and boys divided towards our separate staircases. Fred made some joke about me going up the wrong staircase, but I was too tired to retort a witty response. Angelina, Alicia, and I muttered 'goodnight' to Katie before she strode off with her fellow fourth year bunkmates whilst we entered our fifth year dorm.

I tossed my robes onto the floor, ignoring all of the other girls who folded theirs in nice pile upon their trunks. I threw on Fred's Ireland t-shirt that I wore as a nightgown and crawled under the warm comforter. Angelina sat upon the bed beside me, her usual spot, and carefully unhitched her jewelry and wiped off her make-up. I didn't wear make-up, and I didn't bother brushing my hair, or even take my pigtails from their ties. I noticed Alicia combing out her shoulder length strawberry blonde locks while all along admiring her summer tan in the hanging mirror across the room. Both of my friends' pajamas had tops that perfectly matched the bottoms, and I couldn't for life of me understand why they put so much effort into outfits they only slept in. I was too sleepy to contemplate the answer, opting to roll over away from Angelina's illuminated lamp instead.

"Sweet dreams, Winnie," Angelina whispered, turning off her light and finally crawling under her own covers.

"G'night, Ang," I replied quietly just before falling into a deep, fulfilling sleep.

--

_**A/N:**__ Once I reach 45 reviews I will update again, so inspire me with those reviews people. I only ask for a certain amount of reviews because I didn't receive half as many as I was expecting on "A Siren's Song" which pissed me off because I'd received so many private messages from people pleading for me to update._

_**PS: **__Guess who is spending the summer in England studying British literature? __**ME! **__I'm excited, and I just thought I'd tell you guys. I've never been to Europe before, and I'm so stoked to see the country and visit my friends in London! Best news ever!!_

_**Questions for you: **__Who is your favorite, Katie or Alicia? What would YOU like to see happen?_

_**Coming Soon: **__Classes begin, Quidditch-Quidditch-Quidditch, O.W.L. exam preparations, Winnie receives private lessons, Winnie hates her best subject with a passion, and puppy love is in the air for more than a few young wizards..._

--

_I hope the lot of you had  
__a happy Christmas!  
__Love Always,  
__Milena_


	5. Chapter 5: The Early Bird

_**Chapter Five**_

_The Early Bird_

--

_It is not so much our friends' help that  
helps us, as the confidence of their help. _

–

I'd woken up late, again. Surprise, surprise. Angelina had been trying to wake me for nearly an hour before she finally resorted to pulling the sheet out from under me and sending me plummeting onto the floor. If I didn't love her so much, I'd of killed her. I threw back on the robes I had carelessly tossed onto the floor the previous night, brushed my teeth and combed my hair faster than you can say "Snorkeling Skrewt." I snatched up my messenger bag and hurried to gobble down a bit of breakfast before classes began again. I was still rubbing the sleep out of my eyes when I entered the Great Hall, immediately spotting the two boys who were reading what were undoubtedly the new schedules.

"Good morning, Sunshine," said Fred, smiling up at me as he sipped his orange juice.

"Nothing that happens before noon can ever be considered 'good', Fred," I yawned, plopping down beside him and across from George.

"Normally I would disagree with you, but considering the circumstances—"

"What's happened?" I sighed despondently, snatching up a slice of dry toast and taking a healthy bite.

"We all have _double _Potions first thing this morning," said George, handing me my class list that was courtesy of McGonagall. "With the Slytherins, no less."

"You must be joking," I muttered, setting down my breakfast and surveying my schedule.

"I joke about many things, Winifred, my dear," George smirked, taking a bite of his sausage, "but I've never found spending excess time with the Slytherins very comical."

"Bullocks, you're right," I frowned, setting my schedule back down on the table for Fred to pick up and compare with his own.

"I forgot you were taking Divination," said Fred, a sly smile creeping across his lips. "How much is Trelawney bribing you to stay in her class?"

"She isn't _bribing_ me, thank you very much," I smirked, narrowing my glare at him. "I'm taking it on my own free will."

"Because she could sleep through the whole bleeding course and still manage an 'O,'" George chuckled, flicking a large crumb at me. I swatted the crumb away and rolled my eyes, smiling despite myself.

As much as I hated to admit it, he was right. I was a natural at Divination since the first day I set foot in Trelawney's classroom. I didn't have to try to achieve good marks in her class, quite the opposite of the twins and Lee. They'd always given me a hard time about my relationship with Trelawney, as well. The bloody tosspot loved me, one of the _only_ professors, mind you. I think she secretly always hoped I was a seer or something, but she was sorely mistaken. When it came to my ability to read tea leaves, crystal balls, and dreams… I was just lucky I guess.

I wasn't a scholar in many classes. I was, as Trelawney deemed me, "a prodigy" in Divination, good in Transfiguration, Astronomy, and Defense Against the Dark Arts. I was decent in Charms and Care of Magical Creatures but admittedly dreadful in Potions, History of Magic, and Herbology. How I managed to pass all my classes with at least "Acceptables' last year was beyond my realm of comprehension. The twins had always gotten better marks than me in my three worst classes, but I usually walloped them in everything else. The three boys and I had every class together as usual, excluding Divination which Fred and George substituted for Muggle Studies. Our other elective, Care of Magical Creatures, with Hagrid remained the same.

Ron, Harry, and Hermione strolled into the Great Hall not long after I'd memorized my schedule, Harry looking rather tired and annoyed. Fred grabbed the pile of third-year schedules for the trio and handed them over to George.

"New third-year course schedules," said George, passing them over. "What's up with you, Harry?"

"Malfoy," said Ron, sitting down beside me and glaring over at the Slytherin table. Fred and I looked from Ron to Malfoy, following his gaze. George looked over his shoulder, along with us, in time to see Malfoy pretending to faint with terror again.

"That little git," he said calmly, turning back around slowly. "He wasn't so cocky last night when the dementors were down at our end of the train. Came running into our compartment, didn't he?"

"Nearly wet himself," said Fred quickly, looking sideways at me for support.

"You know, he may actually have," I replied hastily, trying not to appear as if I was lying. "The little prat was clutching his robes around his waist pretty damn tight last night if you ask me."

Malfoy by no means was anywhere near our compartment, but I thought George's attempt to lift Harry's spirits was quite chivalrous. I wish I had thought of it first, actually. He really could be rather sweet… when he wasn't being a right git that is.

"I wasn't too happy myself," said George. "They're horrible things, those dementors…"

"Sort of freeze your insides, don't they?" said Fred.

"You didn't pass out though, did you?" said Harry in a low voice.

I saw George's Adams apple trail up and down his throat, and I imagined Fred had a similar reaction. Neither of them were about to mention my little -episode- because they knew it wasn't their place, but I could tell they felt awkward having to keep their mouths shut when Harry was going though something so similar to me. I swallowed my pride, took a sip from my orange juice and pulled the goblet an inch away from my lips before speaking.

"I almost did," I said quietly.

"You did?" Harry said with an upward inflection.

I looked up at Fred and nodded at him.

"Yeah, she did," he replied, confirming my claim. "She gave us quite the scare there for awhile."

"The dodgy thing came in, and I heard screaming," I said a bit louder than before. "I didn't recognize it at first, but then, well— I sort of blacked-out there for awhile, forgot where I was. It felt like the soul had been sucked straight out of me."

"I heard screaming too," Harry nodded, visibly less downtrodden. "Why do you suppose we were the only ones—"

"Because we were there when our families—" I started, then stopped and cleared my throat uneasily. "We both have equally traumatic pasts, and I think that must have something to do with it. That's what Professor Lupin led us to believe anyhow, he was the one who gave me some chocolate on the train."

"Forget it, you two," said George, feeling the uncomfortable tension and opting to rid the atmosphere of it. "Dad had to go to Azkaban one time, remember? And he said it was the worst place he'd ever been, he came back all weak and shaky…They suck the happiness out of the place, dementors. Most of the prisoners go mad."

"Anyway, we'll see how happy Malfoy looks after our first Quidditch match," said Fred.

"Gryffindor versus Slytherin, first game of the season, you know," I smiled kindly at Harry, trying to erase the memory of the dementor from my mind and failing miserably. However, I could tell our attempts to cheer Harry up had worked. His jaw had clearly unclenched and he began helping himself to some sausages and fried potatoes.

--

Hagrid had just passed by our table, muttering something about how unbelievable it was for him to be teaching when the twins and I took to our feet to head off to Potions. We'd avoided the inevitable as long as possible, but we knew we'd have to get there at least a few minutes early to secure decent seats for the remainder of the term. However, we didn't even get the chance to take two steps from the table before we were stopped by our Gryffindor Quidditch Captain, Oliver Wood. He was sporting a smile that appeared much too cheery and awake for the morning of the first day of classes. Then I realized, the first day of classes meant his first day of Quidditch.

I smiled shyly, peering down at my feet, still slightly embarrassed from the incident on the train as George patted him roughly on the back from the other side of the table. He nodded kindly at the four of his Quidditch players, lingering a bit longer on me.

"I'm glad I caught you lot. I'll only have to speak with Katie and Angelina since you're all together," he beamed. "I wanted to pass the word on to you four that we'll be having a brief tactical meeting this evening at nine o'clock."

"It's the first day of school, Wood," I said indignantly.

"Haven't you ever heard the saying, 'The early bird catches the worm,' McKinnon?" asked Oliver, smiling shrewdly.

"I wager you're implying we're the bird, and the Cup is the worm?" I smirked, crossing my arms over my chest.

"Precisely," he smiled, pointing his index finger at me like a loaded gun as he winked.

"Well, aren't you clever?" I teased.

"Let's just hope I'm clever enough to outwit our competition and win us the Cup this year," said Oliver in a whimsical tone. "It's my last year to do it, you know?"

"We know," the four of us sighed in unison, rolling our eyes because it was the millionth time we'd heard Oliver mention this year being his 'last year.'

"Good," Oliver smiled, utterly unaware of our mockery. "I'll see you all tonight then."

Oliver darted out of the Great Hall, undoubtedly on a mission to find Angelina and Katie before his first class. He could have just asked me to tell the two girls, but Wood didn't exactly pinpoint details when he had Quidditch on the brain…which was constantly. Harry, the twins, and I laughed lightly at our overly enthused team Captain.

"You'd think by now, Wood would be able to comprehend the meaning of sarcasm," said George, releasing a short laugh.

"Especially considering that's just about the only language we use with him," Fred added, smiling to himself and kindly lifting my messenger bag onto my shoulder without me asking.

"He is a good guy though," I added, thinking of the confrontation on the Express from the day before, "even though he is a bit Quidditch-obsessed."

"_A __bit_," the twins and Harry chimed in, laughing.

"But, yeah, I agree," said George, receiving a nod of agreement from Harry.

"Me too," said Fred as he playfully ruffled my hair and slung his gangly arm over my shoulders.

We sent hurried 'farewells' to the trio and headed off towards the dungeons, meeting Lee just outside the Great Hall. Fred handed him his schedule for him to compare with our own. He looked equally, if not more, disgusted that we were being forced to suffer through double Potions with the Slytherins first thing. The open door to Snape's damp and dreary classroom came into sight much sooner than we anticipated and desired.

"_Double_ Potions and _double _Arithmancy," said Lee, rereading his class list for the day and leading the four of us into the chilly classroom. "Disgusting, is it the same for you lot?"

Angelina and Alicia were already sitting beside each other in the middle of the room, three tables from the back. We smiled and nodded our welcome to them before setting down our things. Fred and Lee took the last table, leaving George and I to take our seats at the wooden desk between both Angelina and Alicia and Lee and Fred.

"George and I both have Muggle Studies instead of Arithmancy," Fred replied, lugging his heavy Potions book onto the tabletop.

"And I have double Divination," I added, puffing a stray strand of hair from my eyes. "I'd rather French kiss a troll than take Arithmancy. I'm rubbish with numbers and—"

It was almost as if some dark, foul ambiance engulfed the room in an instant. Montague and his equally offensive-looking posse had strutted through the doorway, a deviously pompous grin sported across his depraved face. I heaved a heavy sigh and held my open palm in front of my face, slouching down in my chair, as if I could make myself invisible.

"Speaking of trolls…" George grimaced, narrowing his eyes at the hairy-armed Slytherin. Montague was mid sentence with one of his ogre-like mates when he laid eyes on me, stopping a syllable into one of his undoubtedly elementary level vocabulary words. I only looked over for a second, not turning my head but peeking through the tiniest crevasse between my middle and index finger beside my head. I noticed George's open palm turn into a tight fist, his knuckles as white as snow.

"You know, Freddie, covering your face doesn't really substitute for an invisibility cloak," said Lee, leaning over on his forearms so he could whisper as close to my ear from behind as possible.

"Why thank you, Lee, I was completely unaware," I hissed sarcastically, looking swiftly over my shoulder to send him a playfully nasty look. He smiled back at me, thoroughly enjoying my discomfort.

I thought Montague had opted to just take his seat at the table beside the one George and I shared, but I was sorely mistaken. My stomach clenched in pain as I spotted Montague begin to stride towards our table between the tiny slit I made between my fingers. Everyone was sitting down except for him, he appeared keen on causing a scene, I closed my eyes and pleaded to the heavens for him to spontaneously combust. I didn't get my wish, but I suppose I was granted the next best thing: Snape.

"Mr. Montague — _sit_ — _down_," Snape spat as he strutted into the classroom, the heavy door slamming loudly behind him. Graham's vicious coal black eyes appeared sincerely disappointed as he begrudgingly walked back to his seat.

"Yeah, you go and _sit_," Fred said to Graham, "because no one can _stand_ you." Montague rolled his eyes and sat down roughly in his chair. I furrowed my brows, turning to send Fred a bewildered stare. He grinned proudly at his corny joke, widening his gaze and nodding his head at me. "Get it, Freddie, _sit_…_stand_?"

"Yeah, I got it, Fred," I smirked, forcing a laugh before turning around to face the front of the classroom.

"Turn to page seventeen in your texts," Snape said apathetically, pointing his wand at the aging projector in the center of the classroom to launch his desired images upon the dusty backdrop. "You will be making Elzar's Extract, used to stultify even the most agonizing of night terrors. This is a basic potion, and I expect each and every one of you to be able to complete this recipe without any difficulty. Understood?"

The class, as a whole, nodded dispassionately and muttered our comprehension.

"Good," Snape continued. "Now, the most crucial ingredient for this tonic are crushed dragon scales, Hungarian Horntail to be exact…"

My mind went foggy, as it always did when Snape's monotone droll went on longer than a sentence. When he ordered us to begin brewing our potions, I prayed George had been praying better attention than I had, though I knew that was a wasted prayer. I hurriedly skimmed over the pages that detailed Elzar's Extract and then followed Angelina when she went to gather the ingredients also gathering a summation of Snape's lesson in mere seconds. Angelina was much better than me in Potions, and she admittedly put much more effort into the boring subject than I did.

Nearly forty five minutes later, George's face was dripping with sweat and the steam from our cauldron had caused my lengthy pigtails to resemble something of a poodle. Our potion was supposed to be a sort of translucent, silvery liquid with the texture of water. However, George and I managed to created a bubbling green concoction that resembled cottage cheese. George leaned over the cauldron, dropping in another pinch of dragon scales. An enormous bubble merely exploded in response, he cringed at the revolting smell as several beads of sweat fell into the cauldron.

"Stop sweating into the potion," I snapped, swatting his arm. "You'll muck it up."

"Well, excuse me, Frizz ball," George retorted, lifting up one of my thick pigtails and letting it fall back before my shoulders. "I hardly think a bit of sweat could do any additional damage to the catastrophe you've made."

"_Me_?" I objected fiercely.

"Yes, _you_," he replied, extinguishing the flames in frustration. "I believe it was you who suggested adding the extra snake eyeball."

"Only because you put in too many rosenberries!" I argued. "And for that matter—"

"Will you two give it a bleeding rest already?" Fred interjected in an annoyed tone as he placed a cork atop the vial of silver potion he and Lee had completed. "You're both complete rubbish at Potions, so it's safe to wager the blame should be pretty equal between the pair of you."

"You're no better at Potions than we are," I objected, jerking my neck and sending him an unintentional crazed look.

"True," Fred smirked, not looking up as he scribbled on the cloth tape around his glass vial. "But I was smart enough to pick a partner who overshadows my incompetence with his brilliance."

Lee proceeded to bow to his left, front, and right as if he were reveling in his Potions talent before an audience of thousands. George and I both murmured responses that really couldn't be distinguished, but we both knew he was right.

"You two have been Potions partners for five years," said Lee, taking the vial from Fred. "Haven't you ever considered splitting up to partner with Angelina and Alicia once in awhile?"

"We bring other strengths to the table to compensate for our less than accomplished abilities for Potions," George smirked, looking down at me as I wore a similar expression.

"I bring charisma," I smiled.

"And I bring remarkable good looks," said George.

"And you apparently bring comic relief as well," I laughed lightly. "No offense, Fred."

"None taken," Fred chuckled along with Lee.

A knock on the door interrupted our conversation. Snape, who was virtually ignoring all of us whilst he flipped through countless papers upon his desk, searching for one in particular. He swiftly peered up at the closed door, still gripping a handful of papers. The door slowly creaked open without Snape approving an intrusion and the shabby-looking Professor Lupin poked his head around the door. We had his class the following day, one of the few classes I was excited to attend. He smiled kindly at the class then to Snape who didn't return his pleasant gesture.

"Pardon the intrusion, Professor," said Lupin. "I was hoping to speak with you for just a moment, in regards to your generous assistance—"

"When you are finished, place your vials upon my desk, empty your cauldrons, and you are dismissed," said Snape, refusing to address Lupin.

The greasy git then reluctantly trudged out the door after Lupin, keeping it ajar behind them. Most of the partners had finished and only needed to place their vials into a wooden holster on Snape's desk then empty their cauldron. Therefore, the classroom cleared out in mere minutes. Most people couldn't claim to want to spend more time in Snape's classroom than they absolutely had to. Lee headed off to Arithmancy, leaving Fred to sit on the corner of our table talking to Angelina while Alicia emptied their cauldron. There were only two reasons Fred hadn't departed from the dreary dungeon classroom: to enjoy the sight of George and I scrambling to fix our disastrous potion, and the second was of course… Angelina. After several minutes and countless futile attempts, George and I gave up and were forced to turn in our green muck. I must have let my guard down due to all the frustration because I didn't notice the ogre approaching.

"Ah, McKinnon," an undeniable burly voice rang out, causing me to cringe. I sighed heavily and propped out my rigid jaw, obviously disappointed that Montague hadn't taken the previous hint to avoid me. "You're looking exceptionally lovely today." The messed up thing was, he wasn't being sarcastic.

"Don't piss me off today, Montague, I'm running out of places to hide the bodies," I sneered, lifting up our cauldron and placing it on the corner of the table without looking at the enormous git.

I heard George snort loudly by my side, quite pleased with my snide remark to the barbarian. Graham, who acted as if he hadn't noticed George's existence until just then, jerked his neck to narrow his coal dark eyes at my Potions partner.

"Something you'd like to say to me, _Weasley_?"

"There are many things I'd like to say to you, _Montague_," said George, emphasizing Graham's last name as if it were the foulest word to ever escape his lips. "However, unfortunately due to circumstances beyond my control, I am unable to think of an insult _stupid_ enough for you to comprehend."

"Are you calling me dumb?"

"No, mate, I think you misunderstood," Fred interjected, hopping off the other corner of our table, halting his conversation with Angelina to face Montague. "I believe he was implying you were _stupid_, simply calling you _dumb _would be a severe understatement."

Graham's pea-sized brain was working at full capacity to process just who and how he was being insulted. Being affronted by one person utterly baffled the Neanderthal, I can hardly imagine how much energy it took him to sort out the abuse by two identical looking people. It must have boggled his mind.

"How dare you call me stupid?" Montague snapped, turning his attention back to George.

"Sorry, mate, I didn't think it was a secret," said George, receiving approving nods from Fred, myself, and Angelina.

"Now, George, I don't think you're being fair," Angelina smirked, crossing her arms over her chest. "I think our friend, Montague here, is very intelligent…for an overgrown gorilla, that is."

The four of us erupted into a fit of laughter, earning a dark shade of red upon Montague's face. Clearly embarrassed, Graham sought to redeem himself…I guess in front of me?

"You lot certainly would know a thing or two about idiocy," Montague spat, the utmost disdain in his voice. "Considering you were brought up by that Muggle-loving, barmpot father of yours. Disgrace to the name of Wizardry, the whole family. I really do pity you, Winnie, having to grow up with such a pathetic bunch of—"

Before he could finish two redheads attempted to dive at the burly codger, two guesses who. George had one knee atop the wooden lab table before I stopped him from jumping Montague, wrapping my arms around his neck and yanking him back as if I was forcing a piggyback ride on him. He fought against me to grab at Graham, but I held him in place, preventing him from decking the bloody barbarian. Angelina gripped either of Fred's arms, pulling him backwards with a great amount of difficulty. The remaining few students halted their current transactions and directed their attention at the scene at hand.

"He only wants to get a rise out of you two," I said to the twins as George glared viciously at Montague, feeling his rapid heartbeat against my chest. "Don't give him the satisfaction."

I felt his muscles relax after several seconds, leaning over gently for me to climb off him. I looked over at Angelina and suggestively nodded from she and Fred to the door. She took the hint and grabbed their things and forcefully led Fred toward the corridor, Fred's eyes not leaving Montague's all the while Angelina drug him out the door. I handed George our vial for him to begrudgingly take our assignment up to Snape's desk. As soon as he passed Montague, sending him a murderous glare, I chose to speak my mind. My nails gripped the counter as I leaned forward, putting all of my weight on the tabletop as another thick strand of hair fell in front of my eyes. Montague looked extremely proud of himself, always getting some sort of sick high off my frustration.

"Graham Montague, I will never get over the embarrassment of belonging to the same species as you. You are a monster, an ogre, a malformation, and did I mention you smell?" I spat. "I would sooner lose a staring contest with a basilisk than _ever_ go out with the likes of you."

"You know, you're beautiful when you're angry," he whispered shallowly, one corner of his mouth curled up into an infuriating grin. He reached out to slide the loose strand of hair from my eyes but, to my surprise, another hand stopped him. George had returned and swiftly extended his hand, gripping Montague's wrist tightly with his long fingers. I could tell George was inducing pain onto the husky Slytherin because I caught Montague's right eye twitch ever so slightly. George yanked Montague forcefully forward so his face was a foot or so away from his own. His eyes ablaze as I remained motionless, thoroughly surprised at George's strength. I caught Alicia out of the corner of my eye, she was frozen with her cauldron in her arms.

"If you _ever_ lay a finger on her again consider your forehead a twenty four hour bludger bull's-eye," George hissed.

"Is that a threat, _Weasley_?" he scoffed.

"No," George sneered. "It's a promise."

"George," I said hopelessly, vehemently pulling his hand away from Montague's wrist. "He isn't worth it."

"I'll be worth something to you someday, McKinnon," said Montague, winking at me as he strolled casually back to his table. "Now _that_ is a promise."

I rolled my eyes and pretended to vomit prior to noticing that George's face was still just as red as it was before. Alicia and everyone besides the two of us and Montague finished up and exited the classroom.

"I thought I told you not to give him the satisfaction of getting a rise out of you," I said quietly.

"That was before he put his hands on you," said George simply, harshly stuffing his book into his bag.

"He hardly put his hands—"

"Oh, you're defending him now?" George muttered in an sharp tone.

"Come off it, George, of course I'm not," I said hastily. "I hate that foul codger more than anyone."

"I doubt that," he murmured, looking over at Montague. "He's dangerous, Freddie."

"Oh please, don't overestimate him," I frowned, peering over at Montague who was whispering fiercely to his neighbor. "He's just your stereotypical Slytherin: selfish, arrogant, and despicable."

"I'm not overestimating him," George insisted. "I just need you to promise that you'll come to me if he even tries to lay another finger on you."

"George, honestly, don't worry about m—"

"Promise me," he whispered fiercely, twisting his neck to look into my eyes.

"Fine," I sighed reluctantly, crisscrossing my thumb across my chest. "Cross my heart."

Crossing my heart had been something of a trademark of mine since I was a toddler. My Mum had constantly used the expression around me, and I kept it alive after she, herself, no longer was. I knew that this promise I was making to George, however, would not be kept. I was not about to cause another scene. I was determined to prevent any similar incidents from occurring until the years end, and _that _was a promise _I __was_ going to keep.

"Good," George nodded, smiling feebly to himself at my agreement. Montague walked by, carrying his vial in his enormous callused hands. It made me hate him even more because of the fact that his potion appeared flawless. I sighed heavily and looked disgusted at our cauldron, an idea stuck in my mind. "So when did you become so mature, Winnie?"

"Huh?" I grunted, snapping my attention back to George.

"Miss Don't-Give-Him-The-Satisfaction," he laughed. "You sounded like Mum. I have to admit that was a grossly mature sentiment, disgustingly grown-up really."

"Oh, George, you give me way too much credit," I grinned deviously, earning a confused look from him. Montague turned back from Snape's desk as I pointed my wand at his gigantic feet. Quickly muttering a spell while he neared our table and causing his black shoelaces to tangle with one another. He face planted so hard against the cold, hard floor that I swear I felt the ground shake. I snatched up our full cauldron and emptied its disgusting contents onto Montague's fat head. George's mouth hung open in shock, the laugh within him so strong that he couldn't even manage to release it.

"Miss McKinnon, just what do you think you're doing?!" Snape bellowed, darting back into the classroom with Lupin looking on in the doorway because of the ruckus no doubt.

"Er—just cleaning out my cauldron like you said, Professor," I smiled innocently, batting my eyelashes.

Snape's mouth hung ajar, looking from me, to the cauldron, to Montague nearly a dozen times before he could even formulate another thought. I caught a glance at Lupin, a slight grin fighting to spread across his lips.

"Well, since you enjoy cleaning cauldrons so much then you won't mind spending a couple hours tonight doing just that," Snape spat, pulling Montague to his feet by his collar, "in detention."

"My pleasure," I replied, gritting my teeth.

"My office, eight o'clock, don't be late," he sneered, "You know the drill I'm sure."

"If I didn't by now then I fear I wouldn't be learning a thing from my punishments," I said sarcastically.

"Excellent," said Snape dryly, narrowing his dark eyes upon me. "I must congratulate you, Miss McKinnon, I think this is a new record for you. You've managed to earn your first detention of the year before your first class has concluded."

"Unfortunately not, Professor," I said humorously. "I managed to earn a detention five minutes _before_ my first class last year from McGonagall for turning Draco Malfoy's hair hot pink. Overreaction, if you ask me, the spell only lasted fifteen minutes…Nevertheless, there's always next year to break my record, and I promise that you'll be on the top of my list to assist me when—"

"That's enough, McKinnon," Snape frowned, rolling his eyes. "Just clean up the mess you've made and be so kind to empty Mr. Montague's cauldron, considering he currently appears indisposed. Oh, and you can do all this without using your magic of course."

"Of course," I smirked.

Snape looked from Montague to George, opening his mouth as if he were about to say something but opted to close it again.

"I would ask you to escort Mr. Montague to the Hospital Wing, Mr. Weasley," said Snape. "However, I fear an unpleasant skin reaction would be the least of his troubles by the time he was seen by Madam Pomfrey if he was under your care."

"Yeah, better safe than sorry," George nodded, smiling to himself.

"Therefore, I think it would be best if you stayed and assisted Miss McKinnon with her clean-up," said Snape, eyeing him suspiciously. "Something tells me you're not completely innocent—"

"Am I ever?" George interjected humorously, instantly regretting his remark as Snape sent him a venomous glare. "Er-I mean, I'm happy to help Winnie clean-up."

"Wonderful," said Snape cruelly, tugging Montague by his collar. "Oh, and don't take anything. Believe me, I'll know if you do."

"Yes, s—" we said in unison, the door slamming before we could finish.

We immediately erupted into a fit of laughter, gripping our sides at the image of Montague covered in smell green muck. George had tears streaming down his face, wiping them away as he gasped for air. I was still giggling when I walked up to Snape's desk and plucked up our green vial along with an empty one, scribbling our names on the fresh one. George halted his laughs and eyed me curiously.

"What are you doing?" he asked.

I slid our failure of a potion filled vial into my messenger bag and walked over to Montague's cauldron, extracting the silvery liquid perfection.

"Honestly, George, do you know me at all?" I grinned, popping the cork on the vial and replacing it in the same place our previous assignment had been. "Did you really think I would let that foul, dimwitted troll get away with what he said about Arthur? He owes you an apology, and seeing as he's never used the words "I'm" and "Sorry" in the same sentence I think forcefully taking an apology from him in the form of an 'O' on this Potion's assignment should do for a bit of retribution. Well, that and me tripping him and pouring smelly green slime on his head."

George didn't respond. I peered up at him, and he was just staring at me like I had just invented something as amazing as the dung bomb or something. I looked at him as if he were insane.

"What?" I smirked.

"Nothing," he smiled, shaking his head.

"Whatever," I laughed at him, lifting my bag onto my shoulder. "Now clean-up the slime. He said _I_ couldn't use magic, but he didn't say anything about _you_."

George withdrew his wand and pointed it at the floor, instantly causing the muck to vanish and then moved onto the cauldron. He peered over at me, something obviously on his mind.

"Why didn't you just let Fred and I have a go at him?" he asked. "I mean, we would have taken care of the tosspot just as well and you wouldn't have gotten yourself a detention."

I hopped onto the tabletop, kicking my feet above the stone floor beneath me.

"I can't sit idly by and watch you and Fred fight my battles for me, and I especially can't let you get hurt or punished because of me," I said, as George carried the empty cauldron across the room. "Oh, and I knew getting a detention tonight would get me out of our Quidditch meeting. I'd rather have a weeks worth of detentions with Snape than listen to Wood ramble on and on for two hours about stuff we've known for years."

George released a brief laugh as I hopped back off the table and followed him towards the door.

"Wood, isn't going to be too happy that you're missing the meeting," said George, smiling at the idea.

"It doesn't matter," I replied. "Wood will be in bed by the time I get back from detention, you lot will fill me in if I missed anything…which isn't likely, and I'm sure he will have forgotten the whole thing by the next time I see him."

"Is there some other Oliver Wood that I don't know about?" George smirked, knowing just how royally ticked off the Gryffindor Captain was going to be once he found out I would be absent to our first team meeting that night.

--

**A/N:** _Thank you all so much for all the wonderful reviews! I appreciate it so much! As soon as I reach 55 reviews I'll add the next chapter. So give me those reviews because I really want to update soon because I know exactly what I'm writing in the next chapter, and I'm super excited about it! Btw…I'll be holding off on Montague for awhile now since he's been mentioned a lot lately. Also, I know Marcus Flint was Slytherin's Captain this year, but for the story's purpose…just go with it. That, and the fact that Alicia isn't on the team._

**PS:** _Check out my new avatar, and I pretty much love it! Also, I found a new George/OC fic called "**Maddy Crouch**" that I've come to really like by **HadleyConlon**. You guys should check it out! It's sort of different than mine because it's more fluffy and to the point, but it's well written, creative, cute, and fun! She could use some more reviews, so if you give it a read and review tell her I suggested it! Not forgetting my lovely dedicated reader, **wiatch**, who has just posted her first EVER fanfic (so exciting!). It's called "**Marauder's Girl**," and it's a Remus/OC. Wiatch (Zala) is a young writer with loads of potential, and it would mean so so so much to me if you read her fic and left her a pleasant review :)_

**PSS:** _What do you think of Winnie and George's/Fred's relationship so far? Good/bad? Anything you'd like to see change?_

_**Coming Soon:**_ _Double Divination for the girls, Alicia mentions something that brings a smile to Winnie's face, Detention with Snape, Oliver doesn't let Winnie off so easy, a tickle of the pare, a visit to the kitchens, and a pleasant surprise goes both ways._

_**I hope you all had the best holiday season! I adore you all so much :)  
3 always,  
Milena**_

_**REVIEW!**_


	6. Chapter 6: The Gallant Git

_**Chapter Six**_

_The Gallant Git_

–

_We judge others by their behavior.  
We judge ourselves by our intentions._

–

"You're joking," Fred laughed.

"I swear," said George. "It was priceless."

"I'd pay a thousand galleons to have seen the look on Montague's face, or Snape's for that matter," said Fred, wrapping his arm around my neck and pulling me into some sort of congratulatory hug.

We'd caught up with Fred, who had stayed behind around the corner waiting for us, and told him about our incident after class in great detail. I thought Fred was going to wet himself as I described the texture of the goo I had poured onto Montague's head. He'd doubled over in laughter after George gave him the play by play. With smiles on our faces, we had the brilliant idea of getting some fresh air on such a beautiful day. We grabbed our brooms and headed towards the entrance hall with intentions of escaping onto the grounds for a bout of Quidditch before my Divination class. We'd just opened the large door to enter into the sunlight when an undeniable voice rung out from behind us.

"Winifred!"

"Bullocks," we said in unison, freezing mid-step and cringing at the infuriated tone of Percy Weasley.

The three of us pivoted about, eyeing the eldest Hogwarts enrolled Weasley approach, clearly on the warpath.

"I'd like a word!" he bellowed, swiftly approaching with a severe look upon his pink face.

"What is it, Perce?" I frowned, narrowing my glare.

"Well, _Winifred_," he began, emphasizing every syllable of my name as he halted his strides just before us. "I have a problem, can you guess what it is?"

"No, but I wager it's hard to pronounce," George scoffed, earning snickers from Fred and I while Percy's face turned even redder.

"No," Percy sneered. "My problem is your behavior in Potions this morning."

"How on God's green earth did you hear about that already?" I snapped.

"Being Head Boy has its privileges, Winifred," said Percy, puffing out his chest to flash his badge as if we were completely unaware of his title. "I was promptly informed of your indiscretion by your Head of House—"

"McGonagall is your Head of House too, you know," I replied fiercely. "Just because you're Head Boy doesn't mean you're not a student anymore."

"Nonetheless," Percy continued, unfazed by my correction. "Your irrefutable actions are bringing shame upon my sterling reputation by mere association."

"And you think I want to be associated with you...?"

"I'm warning you, Winnie," he continued, ignoring my snide comment. "If your transgressions continue then I will be forced to write Mum about your inappropriate behavior."

"You wouldn't," I warned.

"Oh, I would," he sneered. "So this better be the last time I hear of your bad behavior and that goes double for the two of you."

Without another word, Percy furiously pivoted about on his heel, leaving us to look on after him. As soon as he was out of earshot the three of us burst into a fit of laughter. We'd been threatened by Percy so many times before that it was humorous to even listen to him try to intimidate us anymore. He would never write Molly because he knew his own repercussions from us would be twice as bad as whatever punishment we received from her. Propping our brooms back over our shoulders, we headed out into the sunlight.

--

Professor Trelawney had always given the impression of a large, glittering insect. Moving into the firelight, she still had the same very thin frame; her large glasses magnifying her eyes to several times their natural size, and she draped in a gauzy spangled shawl. Innumerable chains and beads hung around her spindly neck, and her arms and hands were encrusted with bangles and rings.

"Welcome, my children, to another year of Divination," said Trelawney, flamboyantly motioning her arms for us find a seat upon on of her colorful armchairs and poufs.

Alicia, Angelina, and I found three armchairs on the front row, as far in the left corner as possible. Alicia and Angelina attempted to sit as properly as possible in the awkwardly constructed chairs while I opted to pull my leg up against my chest, resting my chin atop my kneecap. Professor Trelawney had seated herself in her usual winged armchair in front of the fire.

"So you have chosen to continue on our journey through the fascinating magical art of Divination. I must warn you, if you have struggled with this subject before things will not be any easier for you now," said Trelawney in her mystical tone. "As I've told you all before, books can only take you so far in this subject. If you do not possess the Sight, there is very little I will be able to teach you."

I released an obnoxious yawn, earning a swift elbow to the side from Angelina. Well, she could hardly blame me. We'd heard this same speech a million times from the goofy git.

"Many witches and wizards, talented though they are in the area of loud bangs and smells and sudden disappearings, are yet unable to penetrate the veiled mysteries of the future," Professor Trelawney went on, her enormous, gleaming eyes moving from face to unimpressed face. "It is a gift granted to few." She tilted her forehead forward, resting her elbows on the arms of her chair and propping her chin on her laced fingers. Trelawney then smiled at me, my eyes widening in reply.

"Bloody hell," I muttered, slouching down in my seat and covering my face with my hand while all eyes were suddenly on me. Angelina snickered quietly, enjoying my rare moment of admitted embarrassment.

"Teacher's pet," Angelina teased, pinching my cheek and making a kissy face.

"Shut it," I retorted, pinching her arm playfully.

"We'll begin our lesson today with a review of crystal balls," said Trelawney, rising from her chair. With an obscene wave of her arm, a pristine crystal ball appeared on a table before each group. Some of our fellow students jumped at the sudden appearance of the crystals because they had already nearly dozed off in the comfortable seats Trelawney hadn't realized would make her students catatonic the moment their bums touched the soft cushions. "I hope none of you have forgotten how to handle your balls."

A group of boys in the back began snickering, along with me before Angie elbowed me in the side again. Trelawney shot the three Hufflepuffs a nasty glare.

"Rogers, Emmons, Andrews," she snapped. "Restrain yourselves."

The boys bit their tongues, looking at each other out of the corner of their eyes with sly grins on their faces. I instantly wished Fred and George had been there to hear her say that, but I made a mental note to tell them all the same. It was moments like that when I realized exactly why I loved having boys for my best mates. They knew when to appreciate good humor. I saw Alicia roll her eyes at the troublesome trio behind us out of the corner of my eye. I smiled to myself and bit my lower lip, replaying the funny incident in my head and imagining what the twins would have said.

"As I was saying," Trelawney continued. "I expect you all to remember the basics of how to read crystal balls. I'll give you the remainder of the time to combine your groups' predictions into a scroll's length assignment due at the end of the class. Understood?"

Everyone groaned their understanding and clear displeasure with the assignment.

"Very good," Trelawney grinned, unaware of our discontent. "Begin."

Alicia instantly slid the crystal ball towards me while Angelina pulled out a scroll. She was always our token scribe, considering her handwriting was a bit neater than Alicia's and mine was about as close to illegible as humanly possible. I grabbed the crystal and shoved it back at Alicia who shot me an aghast look.

"She's going to know I made all the predictions if you don't even look at the bloody thing," I said to Alicia.

"But you're the only one who can ever see anything in it," Alicia whined.

"Then pretend for ten minutes and then pass it down," I retorted.

"Fine," she huffed, rolling her eyes.

Alicia set her bent elbows on the table, leaning forward lazily so her head rested atop her hands. She squinted so hard I wondered if her brain would soon explode. She didn't say anything for nearly five whole minutes, opting to turn the ball onto every angle as if she was missing something.

"I see mist," she finally concluded.

"Well, obviously," I frowned, rolling my eyes and sitting back in my chair. "That's what everyone sees."

Alicia turned her head and stuck her tongue out at me, earning the same response from me. Angelina laughed at our idiocy.

"Do you see anything else, Leesh?" I asked.

"Er—" she started, leaning so close that her nose was a millimeter from touching the crystal. "I see a man...I think...maybe? It could be a walrus. I can't tell."

I snorted loudly while Alicia blushed.

"A man, eh, Leesh?" said Angelina in a suggestive manner. "I wonder who that could be..."

"Shut up, Ang," she warned, shooting Angelina a look that shouted _Don't-You-Dare_.

It was too late. I was intrigued which was a rarity concerning incidents such as this. I usually could care less about stupid "who likes who" foolish nonsense, but I would listen to anything to avoid participating in Divination work. I smiled deviously and peered over at Alicia, raising my eyebrows up and down suggestively.

"It's no one," she replied hurriedly. "Right, Ang?"

Angelina smirked, enjoying her humiliation.

"Why can Angelina know, and I can't?" I asked, suddenly abashed.

"Because you'd tell him," she replied.

"You know I'm no gossip, Alicia Spinnet!" I objected.

"I wasn't implying you were," she said sheepishly. "It's just— it's just you're particularly close to him, and I think you'd feel inclined to tell him."

"Who is it?" I repeated.

"Oh, come off it, Winnie," said Angelina. "You very well know who. It clearly isn't Fred...for obvious reasons, so who would Option B be?"

"_George_?" I laughed, repeating his name in a manner as if she had just told me she liked mustard on her PB & J. "You must be joking. You fancy _George_?"

"Keep your bleeding voice down, will you?" Alicia snapped, looking about anxiously to see if anyone heard me. No one had.

"You didn't laugh when I told you I had feelings for Fred," said Angelina. "How is this any different?"

"What kind of question is that?" I said defensively, cruder than I initially intended. "You know as well as I that Fred and George are as different as they are alike. Fred is sweet and protective, while George...well, George is just George."

"George is both of those things," Alicia argued. "I saw him stick up for you in Potions today. He was so gallant."

Her eyes drifted towards the ceiling, a dreamy look overtaking her face. I wager she didn't even realize she was sporting the stupidest smile I had ever seen in my entire life. I imagined she was fantasizing about them walking down the aisle or something.

"Gallant? Hardly," I scoffed. "He was a git. Montague would have killed him."

"That's what made his gesture so brave," she sighed whimsically.

Angelina and I looked at one another with confused looks between the two of us.

"Too bad you don't want me to say anything to him," I said, looking up at the ceiling and flipping my pigtail over my shoulder. "I would have been willing to put in a good word for you."

"You would?" she asked anxiously, then tried to appear nonchalant after she realized how desperate she seemed.

I nodded.

"Well, I suppose...if you didn't make me sound desperate and pathetic..." she began, contemplating the idea to herself. "Do you think he could like me back? Has he ever mentioned me before?"

"They don't talk about girls with me, so I wouldn't know," I shrugged. "They reserve such subjects for one another. George knew ages before I did when Fred liked Angelina. If anything, I could have Fred say something to—"

"No!" Alicia interjected. "Too many people know already. Maybe just ask him what he thinks of me..."

"Fine," I sighed, annoyed. "I'll do it next time we're alone."

"Oh, thank you, Winnie!" she cheered, a smile illuminating her pretty face.

"Welcome," I muttered, snatching the crystal ball from her.

I placed my finger tips upon the crystal ball, feeling a familiar surge of energy run through my veins. I took a deep breath, my back arching, before returning my gaze into the crystal. The mist began to clear as I squinted to see the image within the globe. A black dog came sprinting forward from the smoke, sprinting across a field. I released a quiet gasp, swallowing hard. After years of studying Divination, there was no denying what I was witnessing before my very eyes.

"What do you see, Win?" asked Angelina, peering over my shoulder.

"The grim," I breathed.

Angelina snatched the crystal ball from before me, Alicia looking over her shoulder. They looked into the mist, trying their hardest to see something, anything. They saw nothing, for only I saw the grim. The pulled back from the ball, looking worriedly from one another before settling their eyes upon me. I shrugged and smiled innocently, trying to reassure them.

"It could have just been a poodle," I lied.

–

My back ached almost as much as my fingers and my face was covered in coal black cauldron polish. Snape had been particularly nasty to me whilst surveying my four dozen cauldron cleanings, probably because the concoction via George and I that I poured on Montague's head had given Graham a rather hideous rash. To his dismay, not to mine. I didn't have the chance to eat dinner because I had too much homework to finish before my detention, placing me in an even worse mood. The only positive thought in the back of my mind was the realization of missing the Quidditch meeting.

I was all too determined to wash the grime off my face, put on my pajamas, grab a bite, and collapse under my covers. I fantasized about my warm, goose feathered mattress, the heavenly blankets, and cloud-like pillows. My eyelids began to sag at the mere thought of cuddling up and snoozing beneath such a euphoric scene.

"Fortuna Major," I yawned, rubbing my dry eyes lazily.

"You look a right disaster, Miss McKinnon," said the Fat Lady, swinging open the door.

"Oh, go erase yourself," I snapped rudely, earning a nasty look from the woman as I walked through the portrait hole.

The Common Room was dimmed, it took me several steps inside to realize I wasn't alone. Oliver Wood was standing against the hearth, his arms crossed, staring me down. I took a deep breath, closed my eyes for a moment before heading for the girls' staircase.

"Just going to ignore me, McKinnon?" he interjected.

"No," I frowned, freezing in my tracks, "Just hoping you were a hallucination due to my overwhelming exhaustion. However, since you're talking to me I doubt that's true..."

"Sorry to burst your bubble," Oliver sighed, "but I'm here in the flesh. Something you were apparently unable to do for our Quidditch meeting—"

"I had detention, Wood," I snapped, letting my exhaustion get the better of me.

"I was made aware of that," he replied.

"Then I suppose this conversation is over," I frowned. "Goodnight."

"Oh, no you don't," he objected, pushing himself off the hearth and walking towards me. "I stayed up late just so I could deliver the same speech to you as I did to everyone else."

"I can just hear about it from Fred and George in the morning," I replied.

"Ah, yes, I wager that would be an informative summation," he frowned, narrowing his eyes and crossing his arms.

"Oliver, I've had a long day, and I'm tired," I sighed. "I'd prefer—"

"You're not going to sleep without receiving the same speech as your teammates," he insisted. "It's only fair."

"That I experience the same torture as they did?"

"Winnie—"

"Ugh!" I huffed dramatically. "Fine! Let me at least clean up before I listen to your nonsense that I've already heard a million times."

Before he could object, I hurried up the stairs. I threw off my clothes and tossed on George's boxer shorts, thrice rolling them. I slid on Fred's socks for slippers, wiped off my face, and actually brushed out my hair because even I was shocked at how outrageous it looked from my activities of the day. Grabbing the Marauders' Map, I walked down the steps, my feet heavily landing upon each step. Oliver was sitting on the sofa, his eyes met mine when I reached the first floor. He looked at me like I had never seen me before.

"What?" I smirked. "Not fond of my Weasley couture?"

"No, it's not that," he said quietly. "I've just never seen you with your hair down. It's...um... nice."

"Er— thanks?" I said with an upward inflection, striding by him. "Well, let's get a move on."

Oliver took to his feet, darting after me.

"What are you talking about?" he inquired.

"I missed dinner, and I will certainly not have the energy to listen to you ramble on with an empty stomach," I said.

"Well, the Great Hall isn't open," he replied. "Besides it's after hours."

"No, but the kitchens are, and since when have you known me to care about rules?" I said, pushing open the portrait hole and looking back at him. "Well, are you coming or not?"

He stood in place for a moment, his expression upon his handsome...did I say handsome? Er— his expression upon his face showed his obvious distaste for the idea, but Oliver loved Quidditch. He was determined to check this little 'to do' off his Quidditch itinerary no matter the cost. He heaved a heavy sigh and reluctantly followed after me. He didn't say a word as we darted in and out of the dark corridors. I continued to use the Marauders' Map as a reference to avoid Filch or any other potential detention threats. Filch and his damn red-eyed cat were always lurking about after hours.

"Do you even know where you're going?" Oliver hissed into my ear.

Peering down at the Map, I saw Filch was practically on top of us. I pivoted around and forcefully shoved Oliver into a dark crevasse, concealed by shadows. I placed my hand over his mouth, pushing him against the wall. I held my index finger over my lips, signaling for him to shut the bleeding hell up. His eyes widened looking directly down at me. I realized then how close we were. I thanked Merlin it was too dark to see because I wouldn't have wanted Wood to have see how red my face was.

"Who's there?" we heard Filch bellow.

We both ceased our breaths as the dim glow from Filch's lantern drew ever nearer. I could feel Oliver's heartbeat become much more rapid against my own chest. Finally, after what seemed like an utter eternity, the glow faded and I released Oliver's mouth. I sprinted towards our destination, Oliver trying to keep up. I skidded to halt with Fred's slippery socks against the stone floor before an enormous painting of a bowl of fruit. Oliver stood beside me several seconds later, looking around for whatever the reason I stopped was. I smiled proudly up at the fruit, looking sideways at Oliver and nodding suggestively up at the painting.

"Why are standing in front of this painting?" asked Oliver, looking at me as if I was insane.

"Oh, poor naïve Oliver, this is not _just_ a painting," I smiled, walking forward and tickling the football sized pear. "It's so much more than that."

A doorknob magically appeared from the frame, Oliver's eyes widened in surprise. Stepping towards the knob and turning it, I motioned for Oliver to lead the way. He looked over his shoulders anxiously before striding in before me. I followed suit, closing the portrait after us. He stood in amazement at the scene before us, I suppose I had too when I first saw the kitchens. It was an enormous room, the size of the Great Hall, identical many ways. Four lines of tables lined the room, copper pots and pans almost making the walls glimmer. House elves scurried around, washing dishes and such.

"Miss Freddie!" a small voice squeaked from below.

"Hello there, Dobby," I grinned, ruffling the small amount of hair on his head affectionately. "How have you been?"

"Dobby so good, so very good!" he beamed. "Where Misters Fred and George?"

"Asleep," I said begrudgingly, realizing I'd suddenly forgotten I'd brought a new guest. "Oh, where are my manners? Dobby this is Oliver Wood, Oliver this is Dobby."

"Nice to meet you," said Oliver, extending his hand to shake Dobby's small one.

"Can Dobby get you anything?" he asked hopefully.

"Could I have a PB & J and a glass of milk?" I asked politely. "Oliver?"

"A glass of milk if you don't mind," said Oliver.

"Dobby will be right back," he cheered, hurrying off to retrieve our requests.

I smiled and nodded my gratitude, taking a seat on what would usually be the Ravenclaw table. Oliver sat beside me, still surveying his surroundings with a certain amount of fascination.

"How did you know about tickling the pear?" asked Oliver.

"I could tell you," I teased, "but then I'd have to kill you. Just ask Rupert."

"I don't know Rupert."

"Precisely," I said, pointing my index finger at him.

"Oh, come off it," Oliver laughed. "You've never killed anyone."

"You're right," I grinned, "but I have read many an obituary with great pleasure."

Oliver laughed heartily, gripping his side.

"You know, McKinnon, you're funny," he grinned. "I like that, a lot."

"I try," I shrugged humorously. "I can't take all the credit for my comedic talents, however. You can't expect to grow up with Fred and George and not have a halfway decent sense of humor…um, I take that back. Percy is the exception."

"Percy was always a bit haughty," he admitted. "I expect he was rather difficult to live with after he heard word that he was named Head Boy?"

"Yeah, he was," I said, rolling my eyes. "We didn't hear the end of it all summer."

"I can imagine," Oliver nodded.

"Fred, George, and I are going to jinx it to smell like dung. It won't wear off for over a month," I smiled, picturing Percy's face after he sees his prized possession. "We changed it to say 'Big Head Boy' over the summer. He nearly lost his mind."

Oliver laughed, his eyes shined with hilarity. I liked his laugh, it was genuine and immensely contagious.

"Brilliant," he chuckled.

"I must admit that was one of our most rewarding pranks," I smirked. "That and the time we turned Draco Malfoy's quill into an electric eel. His hair stood on end for three hours after it shocked the oily git. Snape gave us two weeks detention for that one...it was so worth it."

"I can't imagine what shenanigans you three will get into this year," said Oliver. "You lot have always served for an _interesting _time to say the very least, but just don't let it interfere with Quidditch."

"I'll take that as a compliment," I laughed, "and it won't."

"You should take it as that," said Oliver. "I may be a bit stodgy at times during Quidditch, but I laugh at your antics as soon as I'm out of sight...don't tell the twins that. Remember last year when Fred…er— or was it George…who thought it would be a good time to grab onto a bludger in midair to see how long he could hold on."

"It was Fred," I smiled. "George bet him a sickle that he wouldn't last more than ten seconds. Fred may have won the sickle, but he ended up having to spend the weekend in the Hospital Wing."

"I'd think they were off their rockers if they weren't such damn fine beaters," said Oliver. "But I'm ashamed to say I can't even distinguish between them sometimes."

"Don't be ashamed," I replied. "Their own mum can't even tell them apart half the time."

"How do you do it, then?" he asked.

"A few different ways," I shrugged. "Their voices for one, but I suppose if you're just looking at them…the two main physical cacophonies would have to be the small mole on the back of George's neck and the scar over Fred's left eye—"

"How did he get that scar?" Oliver smiled wisely, knowing a story was involved.

"It was an accident, honest," I said, biting my lower lip. "We were seven and it wasn't even supposed to be him, I swear. George and I got into a row after he pulled my cat's tail because I borrowed his stupid toy broom without asking. I was determined to retaliate, so I hid in the twins' closet with intentions of scaring the bleeding snot out of him. Well, to my dismay it was Fred who opened the door first. I jumped out like a Boggart, he stumbled backwards over our building blocks, and busted open his forehead. I thought Mol was going to slaughter me."

"It's stories like that that make me disappointed that I'm an only child," said Oliver. "My Mum and Dad were older when they married, so they only had time for one child. I envy you for growing-up in such a large family."

"Well, I am technically an only child too," I admitted. "My parents never actually married. You see, they got together during the War and couldn't ever find the right time to make it official. Molls and Arthur told me my parents would have probably had more kids if…er—"

"I'm sorry," said Oliver abruptly. "I'm sorry about what happened to your parents."

"Don't be," I smiled weakly to reassure him. "It was a long time ago, besides it's like you said before; I'm lucky to have grown-up in such a big family. I wouldn't be the person I am today without the Weasleys."

Dobby interrupted our conversation by dropping off our orders before us upon the table. We thanked him kindly and sipped on our drinks before I began to bite into my sandwich.

"I think this is the longest time I've ever talked to you without it involving some sort of Quidditch strategy," I said, swallowing down a large bite. "It's funny especially considering the whole reason we came here was so you could talk to me about just that."

"You really think that little of me, McKinnon?" Oliver scoffed. "I have other interests besides Quidditch."

"Really?" I smirked, raising my eyebrows in disbelief. "Name one."

"Um...I can't think of one right now, but believe me I have some," he insisted.

"Sure you do," I winked condescendingly. "Face it, Wood, you're nothing without Quidditch."

"Wow, thanks," said Oliver, obviously offended.

"Hey, I didn't say that was a bad thing," I objected. "Everyone is defined by something we're good at. You're just lucky enough to have found it early."

"And what is it that defines you, McKinnon?" he inquired.

"I'm still working on that," I smiled, "but as soon as I find out you'll be the first to know."

We sat in silence for a few minutes, enjoying the harmonies of the clanging pots and pans while I nibbled on my dinner. I looked over at Oliver, memorizing the golden specks in his irises. They seemed to shine when he smiled.

"So I suppose you better give me your speech before I finish my sandwich and collapse from exhaustion," I said, sipping my milk.

"Practices start one month from today," he said. "That's all you need to know."

"Who are you, and what have you done with Oliver Wood?" I smirked.

"You said you'd heard it all before," he shrugged. "I figured I'd spare you the details."

"You know, Wood, I think this has been the best Quidditch meeting I've ever been to," I grinned, swallowing my last bite.

"Me too," he smiled shyly.

—

_**A/N: **So, this chapter was retarded because of the lack of Fred and George. I struggled through it. However, I am excited about the next chapter because the Twins will be back in full force... THANK GOD! I did need some Winnie/Ollie action though, and I needed to build up the George and Alicia business as well... so much drama building. I should update with Chapter 7 soon if I get around 85 reviews total... I posted a new poll that I hope you all will take. I took down my other poll after receiving my desired response. btw. My if there are a lot of typos I'm sorry. My computer has been bizarre lately. It's been slow with lettering, and I cannot get or receive messages correctly. I'm pretty sure I have a virus, and I'm working on it. Sorry._

_**PS:** read **HadleyConlon**'s George/OC, **Maddy Crouch** && her new sequel if you're looking for a good twin read! _

_**Question for YOU:** What do you think of Winnie and Oliver? I'm sure you all prefer Winnie and George, but have I developed a decent beginning sort of potential puppy love relationship between them? It's in the very basic stages, but do you think it seems forced and stupid? What would you like to see happen between the two of them and Alicia and George for that matter?_

_**Coming Soon: **__The flight of the Fat Lady, George and Winnie have an interesting talk, Oliver takes an interest in something...or someone other than Quidditch, Quidditch practice begins, suspicions rise, and shenanigans ensue_.

_**Dedicated to:** RaeRaeMae-xoxo because she just celebrated her 20th birthday, and she's frigging awesome! I know I already made you a vid, but here is a chapter dedication too :)_

**Review.**


	7. Chapter 7: The Herbology Tutor

_**Chapter Seven**_

_The Herbology Tutor_

–

_You will do foolish things,  
but do them with enthusiasm._

–

It had been weeks since my meeting with Oliver, and we had yet to have another chance to speak alone. Whenever we were in the same radius of one another the twins or one of his friends were babbling on about something and distracting us from being able to have a moment to talk by ourselves. It wasn't as if I wanted to spend time with him alone exactly. It was just that I had rather enjoyed our conversation in the kitchens, and I was mildly intrigued to seek out a _friendship_ with Oliver...a _closer_ one I mean. I hadn't said a word to anyone about our little meeting, especially not the twins. They probably wouldn't have been pleased I took an outsider to one of our secret places, and they also would have been suspicious of me in general. No, stolen glances and slight smiles were all that were shared between Oliver and I in weeks.

I also hadn't had a second alone with George to talk to him about Alicia. She'd pestered me about asking him every single day, but I kept having to tell her I hadn't spoken to him. I was growing annoyed of Alicia's nagging to say the least. I was determined to find a minute alone with George within the next few days if it killed me. If I didn't already have that on my mind, I was still fretting about the image of the grim I'd seen in Divination. I saw it everywhere. I saw it in the crystal ball, tea leaves, oracle bones... The more I saw it, the more I feared what was coming. With Sirius Black on the loose, the grim could be at our very doorstep, watching, waiting...

–

Fred, George, and I sat out on the grounds that Thursday afternoon, two weeks before our first Quidditch practice. The air had grown crisp, the chilly October air bringing a slight pink color to our cheeks. The leaves had began changing to their usual autumn colors, falling from their branches to the length grass. I laid casually on my stomach, propping myself up on my elbows. My Herbology book sat open between my bent elbows, bending my neck to read the pages. An exam was drawing ever nearer, and my lack of skill in the subject was making me on edge. Fred and George were little help. They were better in the subject than I, but not by much and they weren't exactly the best study partners...not like I usually was either, however.

The lazy willow tree hung overhead, gracing us with a healthy amount of shade. The twins were discussing another invention that was still on the drawing board, Canary Creams. I suggested Cardinal Creams three weeks ago, but that was just _ridiculous_...ugh, morons.

"I don't think just having them grow wings is enough," said George. "I mean, what's so spectacular about that?"

"Well, what about wings _and_ a beak?" Fred suggested.

"Still not enough," said George. "Maybe―

"Merlin, just have it turn them into a big bleeding canary like I _already _suggested," I sighed.

"Well, you're certainly in a chipper mood," said Fred. "What's got your knickers up in a bunch?"

"Nothing, I'm just stressed about this exam," I muttered, turning my head to the side to look at them.

"You worry too much," said Fred, suddenly closely tracing someone's path on the Marauders' Map.

"Excuse me for wanting to get more than one O.W.L.," I replied a bit nastier than I intended. "You lot may not have to study for Herbology, but I still can't tell the difference between Fanged Geraniums and Snap Dragons!"

"Well, generally speaking, you aren't learning much when your mouth is moving," said George, pulling my pigtail in jest.

I swatted his hand away, rolling my eyes, and turned over onto my back so I could hold my book in front of my face. Before I could react, my book shot from my hands and an abrupt force plopped down on my abdomen. George had hopped on top of me, a big lopsided grin across his face. He gripped my wrists snugly, holding my hands beside my head.

"Let go of me, you tosspot!" I demanded, struggling beneath his weight.

"Say the magic word," he smiled.

"Please," I said reluctantly, gritting my teeth.

"Sorry, it was collywobbles," George joked.

With that he released my wrists only so he could tickle my sides fiercely. I started laughing, despite myself, so hard that I couldn't breathe. I tried pushing him off but he eclipsed me in height and weight. He and Fred laughed at my struggling to avoid his tickling.

"Stop, stop!" I laughed. "I can't breathe!"

"Are you going to quit being a foul rotten codger?" asked George, tickling me harder. "Say it!"

"No, no, I won't be a codger!" I conceded.

"I don't think I believe her," said Fred, grinning at my position.

"I swear!" I pleaded.

"Oh, alright," said George with a faux sense of reluctance in his voice.

George stopped for a second, tickled my side once more, and finally climbed off of me. I pushed myself up and punched his arm, still smiling at the goof.

"Told you she was lying," said Fred, taking to his feet.

"Where are you off to?" I asked, attempting to find my lost page.

"Well, apparently ickle Ronniekins is snooping through our things again," said Fred, looking down at the Marauders' Map once more. "I think we've found our first volunteer to test out a Canary Cream."

"What are you going to do if his wings don't revert back?" I inquired, genuinely more curious than concerned.

"We can always just clip them so he doesn't fly away," said George, shrugging.

"Arms are overrated anyhow," said Fred nonchalantly. "You coming?"

"Um, actually George, could you stay and help me with this Fanged Geranium thing," I lied, knowing this was my perfect opportunity to get him alone.

"Yeah, if you want," said George, sitting back down beside me. "I'll catch up, Fred."

Fred eyed me curiously at first but opted to simply shrug and continue on, leaving George and I behind. As soon as Fred was out of ear shot, George plucked my book from my hands and closed it upon the grass.

"So what is you really want to talk to me about?" he asked, reading me like a book. I hated how he and Fred both could do that.

"What makes you think I have an ulterior motive other than Herbology?"

He sent me a look as if to say, _Is-That-A-Serious-Question?_ I smirked, acknowledging his correctness. He laid down onto his back, resting his head atop his laced fingers behind his neck. I returned to my position on my stomach, propping my chin upon my fist and peering over at him. I didn't really know how to start this conversation. I'd never talked about girls with George before.

"Alright, alright," I smiled. "I just wanted to ask you something."

"I've told you before, Freddie," George smiled, closing his eyes to block the reddening sun that began peeking through the willow tree's lengthy vines. "My good looks are all natural. Fred on the other hand...you know, we didn't always look alike. Jealousy makes people do crazy―

"Oh, shut it," I smirked, poking his side.

"Okay, what is it then?" he asked, flinching at my poke.

"Er― What do you think of Alicia? I asked awkwardly.

"Spinnet?" he said with an upward inflection. "She's alright I suppose, a bit uppity if you ask me, but I don't mind her."

"Oh," I said quietly, thinking of how I was going to tell Alicia this.

"Why?" asked George, turning his head to the side and looking up at me.

"No reason," I lied.

"Oh, no," he objected, rolling onto his side and propping himself up onto his elbow. "You can't just ask me that without any sort of explanation. You've never lied to me before, Freddie, don't go and start now."

I released a heavy sigh, wishing he would just let some things go for once.

"She asked me to ask you is why," I replied quietly.

"And why would she have you do that?" he inquired.

I merely raised my eyebrows at him, delivering him an answer without words.

"She fancies me?" asked George, his eyes widening slightly.

I nodded.

"Huh," he grunted, unfazed by the news, rolling onto his back again.

"What do you mean, 'huh?'" I asked.

"I dunno," he said casually. "I didn't see that coming."

"Well, what do you think?" I inquired.

"I mean, I guess she's sort of pretty," said George.

"Brilliant, George, base whether or not you like someone on how they look," I frowned.

"Well, she can be nice too I guess," said George, shrugging his shoulders. "What? Are you her publicist or something?"

"No, she's my friend and yours too for that matter," I defended, "and she really likes you. I thought maybe you would be interested to see if something could come from the two of you."

"_You want _me to date her?" he asked in a mildly shocked tone.

"No, I'm just asking you to take her on _one_ date," I replied. "Give her a chance, take her out on our first trip to Hogsmeade this weekend an―"

"I thought _we_ were going to Zonko's _together_," he said in the most enthusiastic tone since Fred left us alone. "You're just as anxious to check out those new Nose-Biting Teacups as I am."

"Oh, we can do that any old time," I said, flicking my wrist. "Come on, George, you might just have more fun with her than you would with me and Fred."

"Doubtful," he frowned. "But fine, I'll do it for you."

"Well, don't take her out just for me," I objected.

"Fine, I'll take her out not for you, for you," he smiled to himself.

"George―" I warned.

"Take it or leave it," he grinned slyly.

"Take it," I said. "But you have to ask her. She'll know if I ask her for you."

"Yeah, whatever," he sighed, sitting up to take to his feet. "I'll do it next time I see her, but I'm going to go meet up with Fred before you go on and convince me to snog Millicent Bulstrode or something."

"You know I wouldn't have to convince you to do that," I teased. "I know you've always fancied her."

"Oh, shut your bleeding trap," he laughed. "I'll see you at dinner. Save you a seat?"

"Yeah, alright," I nodded, watching him jog off towards the school. "Make sure Fred doesn't kill Ron."

"No promises, mate," George shouted back at me over his shoulder. "But don't stay out here too much longer, you don't want ole Sirius Black to get you!"

–

I'd accomplished my goal. I got George to go on a date with Alicia. But if I was successful, then why did I feel so slimy? It was obvious that George was opposed to the idea and if Alicia knew the true reason he'd agreed to going out with her then she'd be humiliated. I also felt bad for making George skip out on our first Zonko's trip. Granted, we did have our secret tunnel to Hogsmeade whenever we pleased, but it was tradition not to use our extra means of transportation until we'd gone there _legally _together first. We did have some morals, mind you. I hoped that George and Alicia would have a decent time at Hogsmeade so that my pushing and shoving would be forgotten. I couldn't picture George in a romantic scenario. I almost wished I could see it myself.

I couldn't concentrate on my book after George left. The definitions began to blend together, I would read an entire page and not remember a single word I read. Finally, I slammed my book shut and opted to sit with my back up against the trunk of the large willow tree, looking out through the vines at the pond. The sun would be setting within the next hour or so, the temperature lowering with each passing minute. I curled my jean covered legs up against my chest. I plucked dry pieces of mud off my faded chucks, feeling a cool breeze seep into the numerous tears in my jeans. I knew I should probably head inside with darkness approaching but something prevented me from leaving my favored spot on the Hogwarts grounds.

Finally, when the sky had turned a deep purple, I flipped up the collar of my plaid navy pea coat (one of the only moderately feminine apparel items I possessed) and bent down to pull my messenger bag over my shoulder. I gasped slightly when another hand grabbed onto the shoulder strap as well. I looked up and saw Oliver Wood, smiling down at me, his broom slung over his opposing shoulder. His hair clung to his face, obviously sweat from his independent practice.

"I'd tell you that you should be more careful about being outside so late with Sirius Black on the loose," said Oliver, a sly smile creeping across his lips, "but I think Black would be the one who should be frightened if he came face-to-face with the likes of you."

"You'd be right," I laughed lightly.

Oliver pulled up on my shoulder strap, dropping my bag upon the shoulder without a broom slung over it.

"I can carry my books, Wood," I objected.

"I know you can," he replied simply, "but so can I."

I blushed slightly, cursing my pale skin for being so revealing, and followed beside him as he started back towards the castle. I looked up at him every couple seconds, memorizing how distinct his jawline was. His sleeves were rolled up on his gray Puddlemere sweatshirt, I could see his forearm muscles flexed without much effort. I held my hands in my pockets, peering down at my untied laces.

"So what were you doing out here all alone?" he inquired kindly.

"I wasn't alone initially," I began, looking up sideways at him. "Fred and George were with me, but they had a.... _business matter_ to attend to. I chose to stay behind and try to study for Herbology, the key word being _try_."

"No good in Herbology, eh?"

"That would be a severe understatement," I replied. "I'm rubbish."

"I'm sure you're not that bad," he said kindly.

"Oliver, I once mistook a mandrake for a dandelion," I smirked.

"I doubt that," he laughed, "but I could always help you if you like. I got one of my O.W.L.s in Herbology."

"Really, you wouldn't mind?" I asked anxiously.

"Of course not," he replied. "I'd do anything for my fellow teammates."

For some reason that statement hurt. It felt like someone had punched me in the stomach but the pain shot all the way up into my throat. I'd never felt such discomfort in my life.

"Especially you," he smiled shyly.

And with that, the pain was gone as quickly as it had come.

"And what's that supposed to mean?" I asked, fighting a grin.

"I dunno, I like you," he shrugged casually, implying it wasn't some huge confession of love or something. "You're funny, and I dunno... I like being around you. I feel sort of...at ease. I never really realized it before recently."

"You're not half bad yourself, Wood," I smiled, my insides swelling. "When you're not being a Quidditch-obsessed git."

I nudged him playfully with my hip, implying what he said was okay by me and that I was only joking.

"Gee, thanks, McKinnon," he laughed, nudging me back lightly.

"Only joking," I said, one corner of my lip curling upwards. "You're not so much Quidditch-obsessed as you are a git."

"That's it," he smiled, tossing down his broom and my bag.

I took off towards the Entrance Hall doors, hearing his footsteps gaining on me. I was laughing so hard that I could barely breathe. Then he caught me, wrapping his arms around my waist and lifting me up from behind. I didn't fight him, however, like I did when Fred and George would do the same thing. I let him win without a fight. I held onto his hands that were laced together over my waist.

"Alright, put me down!" I giggled.

"On one condition," he said, his warm mint-scented breath stinging the back of my neck.

"What's that?" I asked, looking back at him over my shoulder.

"Go to Hogsmeade with me this weekend," he said, my laughing ceased.

I wanted to say "yes," at least I thought I did. Part of me was fond of Oliver. He was sweet, kind, handsome... However, there were two enormous reasons to why I should deny his request: Fred and George. They would ridicule me to no end and end up scaring Oliver away with their idiotic over protectiveness. It was different with me liking a boy rather than them liking girls. I was like property to them, not in the negative sense of the word, but I belonged solely to the pair of them. They were scared that if I started taking an interest in another boy then the two of them would cease to exist in my eyes, though they'd never admit it aloud. It was better just to remain alone. I guess I'd gotten lost in my own thoughts long enough for Oliver to come to his own conclusion.

"I wager from your lack of response that I can determine that your answer is a 'no,'" he said quietly, setting me back down onto the grass. I turned around to look up at him, a serious expression on my face for once.

"Oliver―"

"I'm moving too fast, aren't I?" he said quickly, rubbing the back of his neck. "I didn't mean to scare you off. I know we just sort of started _talking_. If you don't think of me―"

"Oliver―"

"I hope this won't effect our Quidditch relation―"

"For Merlin's sake, Oliver," I snorted. "It isn't any of that. It's just... it's just...the twins."

"You fancy one of them?" he asked quickly.

"Oh, heavens no," I chuckled. "Speaking from experience, much more Ginny than I, they tend to stick their noses in the personal relationships of the girls they care most about."

"Bring it on. I don't care what they say," Oliver shrugged. "I've been dealing with ridicule from Fred and George since I was thirteen."

"I don't know―"

"Well, who says we have to tell them anyhow?" he asked.

"They'll be at Hogsmeade too, Oliver," I replied. "It isn't as if they won't notice."

"I like to think of it like Quidditch," he started.

"Shocker," I smirked.

"What do you do when a Bludger comes your way?" he inquired, ignoring my smart-ass comment.

"Dodge it, of course," I shrugged simply.

"Precisely," he said, pointing his index finger indignantly.

"I dunno," I sighed. "I've never ever kept anything from them before―"

"Listen, Winnie, it's not like I'm proposing marriage," he smirked. "I'm just suggesting we spend the afternoon together and see where things go from there. If nothing comes of it then you really wouldn't have kept anything from them anyway. I could even help you study afterward."

"Alright, but we take my way to Hogsmeade," I agreed. "It's less conspicuous, and no telling any of your friends either. It would be even worse if they found out through someone else."

"Agreed," said Oliver, smiling at my compliance.

"And I'm bringing my Herbology book along beforehand for good measure," I continued. "If someone spots us then we'll just tell them we're on a study break."

"Fine," he replied.

"Just meet me by the stone witch twenty minutes after the others leave for Hogsmeade," I said. "Make sure you're not followed."

"Has anyone ever told you, you worry too much?" he smirked, magically drawing his broom and my bag back towards us through the air.

"Funny you should ask..."

–

"What took you so long?" asked Fred, shoveling another biscuit into his mouth.

"I must have lost track of time," I fibbed, my eyes still locked with Oliver's down the table, before taking my usual seat between George and Fred.

I looked across the table and spotted Ron, who looked rather pale. I noticed a stray yellow feather sticking out from under his sweatshirt sleeve. A faint smile crossed my lips as I snatched myself a biscuit. George elbowed me and nodded towards Ron's extra extremity.

"Ron, you've got a little something on your sleeve," I smirked.

He quickly plucked the feather from his wrist and flicked it furiously onto the floor. Fred and George peered across at each other over my head, exchanging guilty yet pleased glances.

"How did you manage to get that stuck there?" I asked in a noticeably fake innocent voice.

"Oh, like you don't know," said Ron indignantly, narrowing his glare.

"Haven't the slightest," I replied, sipping my juice without making eye contact.

I slid off my coat and adjusted the shirt I was wearing before returning to my meal. Ron, on the other hand, was flailing his arms in a way that made me think he had so much to say but couldn't formulate what to argue first. I looked over at him, raising one eyebrow.

"That's my bloody shirt!" he exclaimed, ogling the Chudley Cannons t-shirt I was sporting.

"Your point?" I inquired, motioning my open palm towards him to go on with his retort.

"You lot turned me into a bleeding chicken when I was just going to borrow something of yours, but you nicked my t-shirt without asking and you don't see the hypocrisy in that?"

"Nope," said Fred, taking a large bite of potatoes.

"First off, Ron," started George. "I doubt you can _borrow _a Fainting Fancy with any intentions of returning it."

"Second off," I continued without missing a beat. "You haven't worn this shirt since you were ten, and it doesn't still fit you anyway."

"And third off," said Fred, pointing his fork at Ron with his cheeks still full of food. "It was a _canary _not a chicken, you barmpot."

"Have I mentioned that I hate it when you do that?" asked Ron snidely.

"Do what?" said Fred, George, and I.

"That," said Ron furiously, earning laughs from the three of us.

"Well listen, Ron, if you'd really like your shirt back then I'd be happy to oblige," I said, grabbing onto the bottom of the worn t-shirt with faded writing. Ron pouted out his lower lip, shrugging his shoulders with a slightly suggestive smile that was all too humorous to me.

"No, for heaven's sake, no!" Hermione suddenly objected from beside him, across the table, extending her arms towards me as if to halt my potential undressing.

The twins and I burst into a fit of laughter.

"Merlin, Hermione, you didn't think I was actually serious?" I giggled.

"Well, I can never tell when you're joking," she blushed, sitting back straight in her seat, ashamed that she'd been bamboozled.

"My humor draws the line at nudity... female wise that is," I joked, looking up at the twins and winking. "Male nudity is still alright in my book."

They rolled their eyes and shook their heads, laughing despite themselves. Then a strawberry blonde head of hair suddenly caught my eye entering the hall, it was Alicia. I elbowed George hard in the side, causing him to choke on his chicken.

"Christ, Winnie," he coughed.

I nodded my head towards Alicia, suggesting he make his move. He locked his jaw and rolled his eyes at me before I resorted to shoving him to get out of his seat. He released a reluctant sigh and drug his feet all the way down the tables to meet her halfway before she found a spot next to Katie for dinner. George looked back at me begrudgingly before he reached Alicia, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly while I watched his mouth move. I knew he'd truly asked her when her face lit up like she'd just opened her most desired gift on Christmas, and I wished I could have reacted that way when Oliver had asked me the same question. What was I talking about? I didn't like him all that much... My victorious grin fading, I stabbed my fork into my potato, instantly losing my appetite.

–

_**A/N: **Oh, no! What is going on? Winnie with Oliver? George with Alicia? This can't be right! These two are meant to be together, aren't they? Dun. Dun. Dun. What is going to happen when these couples go to Hogsmeade? Mayhem and hilarity ensues? I think so. _

_**Question for you: **Was the Oliver thing retarded? I didn't want to make it sound too fluffy, but I didn't want it to be like the usual Freddie sort of way of doing things because her relationship with Oliver is the polar opposite of her relationship with the twins. Also, the Alicia bit... good so far? I sort of like it. You'll see where I'm taking them soon, but where would you like to see these relationships end up?_

_**Coming Soon: **Hogsmeade, Flight of the Fat Lady, Detention, and Quidditch practice begins._

_**PS:** I'll update when I reach 95 reviews. I updated soon because I know I'm getting busy with my birthday coming up on the 17th! Woot! So, if you give me those reviews I'll be inspired to give you another chapter!_

_**PSS: **I made a new poll. Check it out if you haven't already!_

_**Review.**_


	8. Chapter 8: The Fat Lady

_**Chapter Eight**_

_The Fat Lady_

–

_Always be a first-rate version of yourself,  
instead of a second-rate version of somebody else. _

–

The dull roar of jackets being pulled over sweaters hummed in my ears as I laid casually on my back upon the ancient Gryffindor common room sofa. I looked perfectly content with my Herbology book propped up on my chest, dressed in my favored worn-in boxer shorts (courtesy of one of the twins) and Ron's old Chudley Canons sweatshirt. A hole where my big toe usually occupied allowed the only draft upon my skin. I knew I couldn't let on as if anything were out of the ordinary for fear that I would be had by my redheaded counterparts. The blokes had a nose for uncovering my schemes like a pair of Dobermans. My hair wasn't in its typical pigtail style, the only oddity of my appearance. I didn't want all of my brushing to go to waste, so I opted leave it down. I'd forgotten how long it was, I almost contemplated agreeing with Molly about cutting it when I'd nearly sat on it. However, I'd rather let my own bottom give my hair a tug once in awhile that give Molly the satisfaction of taking me to get my hair styled.

"You expect me to believe that you are skipping a Hogsmeade visit to study for Herbology?" Fred scoffed, peering over me.

"Fred, after our almost sixteen year relationship I've learned never to expect anything from you," I frowned, not looking up from my page that I had been pretending to read for forty-five minutes.

"This is bollocks, Winnie, and you know it," he snapped, not finding my comment as humorous as I did. "Hogsmeade has always been our thing. But all the sudden you'd rather spend your weekend with your nose in a book, and not only that, you go and force George into going to spend the whole bloody afternoon with Alicia."

"Quit whining, you sound like Ron," I said, rolling my eyes behind the thick binding.

"Have fun spending the afternoon with your plants," said Fred.

"Apparently they make more pleasant company than someone I know at the moment," I spat, my fingers visibly gripping the sides of my book with fervor.

"Oh, sod off," he muttered, turning his back to me and stomping off after Lee through the portrait hole.

Fantastic, I'm lying _and_ pushing away my best friend. I am just the worst kind of person. When I saw Alicia pass by me, winking cheerfully at me, I resisted the urge to vomit. I didn't know why, but I still felt wrong about urging George to ask her out. She waited patiently by the open portrait hole, one guess for who. She shifted her weight uneasily from her left to right foot and back again, fiddling in her purse for a nonexistent object. It was almost humorous, imagining a girl acting like a git over George. Speaking of, George appeared as if he'd just rolled out of bed when I spotted him strolling halfway down the steps. He yawned lazily, his shirt buttoned wrong and his jacket collar folded inward. Without missing a beat, I snapped shut my book and darted up the boys' stairs to prevent Alicia from seeing him in such a state. I nearly knocked him on his backside, pulling him back up a few steps to make certain we were out of sight.

"What the bleeding hell are you doing, Medusa?" George hissed, making fun of my lengthy locks. He could bloody well piss off because I knew I had pretty hair. I did, I just didn't exactly flaunt it very often...or at all.

"Trying to make you look presentable," I said, re-buttoning his shirt without asking permission to do so.

"Winnie," started George, I ignored him as I continued with my buttoning. "Winnie, just stop."

He gripped my hands in his and held them firmly between us. He looked down at me, his eyes dancing about before locking upon mine. His expression was stern yet soft, a gentle smile on his lips as if he was humored by my fidgeting.

"I don't care what I look like," he said quietly. "I'm not trying to impress her. If a girl fancies me for me then she shouldn't give a rat's arse if my knickers are on backwards. Now if we were going to Hogsmeade together you wouldn't care how I was dressed, would you?"

"No," I replied truthfully, "but I'm not Alicia, and I don't fancy you."

"I know," he sighed, "but my point is, we love each other... _platonically_, of course, and I expect whomever I end up with to treat me the same way you do... well, minus the whole attempted murder on a daily basis thing."

"You loooovvvvveeee me?" I teased, pinching his chin between my thumb and index finger and pulling him forward to make a kissy face. He rolled his eyes, regretting his solitary brotherly gesture of adoration. "Oh, Georgie, I had no idea you loooovvvvveeee me."

"Get over yourself," he said through his forced scrunched up lips. "I love you like a dog loves sniffing bums."

"Oh, my," I smirked victoriously. "That much, eh?"

I released his cheeks and began unbuttoning his shirt only to re-button it in the untidy way it had already been before. George smiled down at me approvingly, flashing me a wink.

"There," I smirked, patting his cheek playfully. "You look like a prize hog."

"And you look like Rapunzel," he said abruptly, eyeing my hair as if it were bright green or something. "What's with the h-"

"George?" a voice interrupted. "Oh, hi, Winnie."

Alicia became visible at the foot of the steps, peering up at us with a very suspicious look on her face. Then I realized that George's clothes were all mucked up and we were standing inches from one another in a dark staircase. I took a step backwards as George started rubbing the back of his neck. His eyes caught mine as we both fought off a laugh while we imagined what Alicia might have concluded we were doing. Like that would ever happen. I jumped down the steps, hurrying back to my seat on the sofa. I caught a glance at George's face as he trudged down the steps to meet Alicia. He looked miserable, but she didn't appear to have noticed. She clung to his arm like a monkey to a branch, George kept his arm straight and rigid.

"Oh, George, you look a sight," she whined. "Let me fix your shirt before we leave."

She began adjusting his shirt all the while he peered over at me, smiling all-knowingly. He looked somewhat annoyed and mouthed "You owe me." I shook my head and laughed silently to myself.

"Have fun you two, but not too much fun," I teased from behind my book. "Make sure to have ickle Georgie home by eleven, Leesh."

"Remember how to handle a mandrake, Freddie," said George, as he was being yanked through the portrait hole by Alicia. "Earmuffs are _not_ your friend."

–

As soon as George and Alicia departed for Hogsmeade, I slammed down my book and sprinted up the girls' staircase. I had to meet Oliver in three minutes, and I was of course far behind schedule. I pulled on my nicest pair of jeans and dare I say it, the pink blouse Molly had purchased for me. Looking in the mirror for a quick second to brush through my hair one final time, I was surprised how much of a lady I looked like. If I had on make up, heels, and a skirt I may have passed for one of the other girls. I almost laughed at that thought. Snatching my alibi (my Herbology book), I darted out of the portrait hole.

Running down the halls, slipping my arms into my coat sleeves, I nearly skidded right by the witch statue and Oliver for that matter. He smirked at me, obviously amused at my amazing ability to become awkward in every situation. He looked quite handsome to be honest (not as if he didn't _always_ look handsome that is). I didn't speak a word to him. I merely surveyed our surroundings for intruders, grabbed his hand, and yanked him into the secret passage. In fact, neither of us spoke until we were almost to Hogsmeade. It would have been difficult to have a conversation while we were so busy trying not to trip in the darkness of the tunnel.

"Please tell me we're almost there," said Oliver. "I think if I step on one more rat I'm going to puke."

"Oh, stop being such a fraidy cat," I replied, smirking to myself.

"I'm not afraid!" he objected. "I just think it is disgusting down here."

"Yeah, whatever you say," I teased.

Several minutes later, we arrived beneath Honeydukes, the basement to be exact. I pushed up the trapdoor and led Oliver up the steps into the main room. I lifted up my hood to attempt to conceal my identity. We stood in the back of the shop, admiring the Ice Mice and Jelly Slugs. We didn't talk much, simply enjoying each others' company in silence. After Oliver purchased me a bag of Fudge Flies (after much protest on my part I must add) we snuck out the back door and strode casually through the alleyways of the quaint village. I kept an alert eye for the twins, ready to dart into the nearest building at the mere hint of red hair. I felt Oliver's hand lace with mine, warming my blood. He smiled down at me, and I returned the gesture.

"Do you want to get a Butterbeer at The Three Broomsticks?" Oliver suggested, nodding at the busy restaurant.

"Um, it's a bit crowded," I replied tentatively, "Why don't we try The Hog's Head?"

"You must be joking," Oliver scoffed. "Only the worst sort of people go in there."

"Exactly, we'll fit in perfectly," I smirked, dragging him towards the dreary pub by his hand. "It's not so bad, Wood, the twins and I have been inside loads of times. I promise that no harm will come to that pretty little head of yours."

"It's your pretty little head I'm worried about," he replied, jogging to keep up with my forceful lead.

"Oh, please," I scoffed, rolling my eyes as I pushed open the pub's front door. "I am perfectly capable of taking care of myself."

The Hog's Head was empty besides an aging, plump bartender named Charles Hog, who seemed to constantly be cleaning glasses but was unable to scrub off the thick layer of grime no matter how much elbow grease he applied. About an inch of dust could be seen a mile away. I ushered Oliver to a table in the furthest, darkest corner in the pub. Instead of politely walking to our table to inquire to what we would like to order, he opted to shout, "What'll ye have?"

"Two Butterbeers, Charlie," I called, pulling out my Herbology book.

Several moments later, Charlie returned carrying a dusty bottle of Butterbeer. He smiled a toothy grin at me, suddenly realizing that he recognized me from countless business transactions in the past. Oliver attempted to hand him a few coins for our drinks, but he was waved off by the pudgy bartender.

"It's on the house," he grinned, exposing a smile with several missing teeth.

"Sir, I must insist," Oliver objected, extending his closed palm filled with money.

"Keep it, son, your money is no good here," said the bartender. "Freddie hasn't paid for a drink from me in years. She's one of me best suppliers."

"Thanks, Charlie," I smiled gratefully. "How's business?"

"It's good, Fred, it's good," he nodded, eyeing Oliver a bit suspiciously. "Ye gonna have a batch of those Puking Pastels ye three have been bragging about ready for sale soon? Speaking of, where are those two redheaded scoundrels? I've never seen one of ye without the other two."

"Of course we will, Charlie, and you'll be the first to get your hands on them," I beamed, excited to make another sale. "I've gone off on my own this weekend… they don't know that I'm out, however. Therefore, if you see either of them… I was never here."

"'I was never here?'" the aging man quoted, smirking to himself. "If I had a Sickle for every time I heard someone say that within the confines of me humble establishment… er- I better get back to washing dishes. They don't sparkle on their own, ye know?"

"Alright, cheers, mate," I smiled, watching him stroll back behind the bar.

I poured the Butterbeer into each of our glasses, none the wiser to the odd look Oliver was shooting me. Setting down the bottle, I peered up at the handsome Keeper with a weary expression.

"What?" I asked innocently.

"'Business is good?'" he whispered, looking over at Charlie with a fretful expression. "What kind of business goes on in here, and how in Merlin's name are you involved?"

"Let's just say some less than honorable transactions take place here, and I may or may not have partaken in a few barters over the years to acquire ingredients necessary for our inventions," I shrugged.

"I take it you _may_ have," said Oliver.

"You're smarter than you look, Wood," I smirked, winking slyly at him as I set my Herbology on the tabletop in preparation to accept his help in the subject in a bit.

"And you're stupider than you look," he argued quietly. "Winnie, you can't involve yourself with such ill-intentioned characters. It's dangerous."

"'Danger' is my middle name," I teased. "Well, actually it's 'Rose' but close enough."

"I'm not kidding," he said firmly.

"Wood, I have been doing things like this long before I knew you," I retorted. "There is no reason to stop now just because you disapprove. Besides the ill-intended are always the most fun at parties."

"Come off it, Winnie-"

"Can we just change the subject?" I frowned.

"Fine," Oliver muttered reluctantly.

We sat in awkward silence for a few moments, Oliver twiddling his thumbs while I pretended to be fascinated with the label upon our bottle of Butterbeer. Finally, Oliver turned to me and smiled despite himself.

"You look pretty today," he said. "I've been meaning to tell you that all day."

"Today?" I teased, knowing what he meant but with intentions of giving him grief for fun.

"Well, you look pretty every day but-" he stuttered nervously, rubbing the back of his neck. "I mean you look more lovely today than usual."

"You don't have to flatter me with false compliments, Wood," I smirked, utterly humored by him. "I know very well my appearance is less than satisfactory on the best of days. I just don't see the point in putting a large amount of effort on my exterior when there are so many other things I would rather waste my time doing."

"I disagree," said Oliver, aghast. "I think you're beautiful _because_ you don't spend half your day admiring yourself in the mirror. You don't have to try to look pretty. You are naturally stunning."

I knew he was exaggerating, a lot, but I think that made it all the more sweet.

"You're not half bad looking yourself, Wood," I said, ruining the sweet moment we had the potential of sharing. I could never deal with sentimental moments, this was probably thanks to the twins. Making light of every situation I have ever encountered had unintentionally delivered a fatal blow to my ability to enjoy overly-romantic instances. After realizing I had been sitting in silent contemplation for several minutes, I decided to change the subject to something we both loved. "Er- Quidditch practice start next week. I expect you're going to be more of a tyrant than usual this year since it's your last chance to win the Cup."

"I am hardly a tyrant, McKinnon," Oliver smirked, knowing deep down how right my metaphor was. "I do not expect from my teammates that I do not expect from myself, and don't think you're going to get any special treatment because we're… er- seeing one another."

"I doubt anyone is going to agree to ten hour practices," I joked, "and I'd expect nothing less than equal treatment, Wood."

"I've never practiced for ten hours!" he retorted, earning a disbelieving eyebrow raise from me. "Well, in a row…"

I laughed, hard.

"You know, Oliver, you're much funnier than you're credited for," I said, fighting back my chuckle. "I like that about you-"

"Oi, Freddie, it looks like you've got some company," said Charlie from behind the bar, nodding at the figures just outside the dusty glass window. "You know where the backdoor is."

It was Fred, George, Alicia, Angelina, Katie and Lee. I gasped unintentionally and turned to Oliver with a panicked expression. I clasped his hand in mine without another word, practically yanking him off his stool and began dragging him towards the backdoor that the twins and I had used to escape out of too many times to count. I heard the bell ring above the front door just before the backdoor slammed shut after us.

"Merlin, Winnie!" Oliver gasped.

"Sorry, but that was a close one," I replied.

"Is it that big of a deal-"

"You were the one who said we could just dodge them, remember?" I said.

"Yeah, yeah I remember," said Oliver reluctantly.

This little date had gone from decent to bad to decent again to awful so quickly my head was still spinning. I felt terrible because I knew it was my fault that Oliver was having a rotten time. We didn't speak at all until we reached the Shrieking Shack, a location neither of us intended on wandering upon. We sat down on the hilltop overlooking the haunted building, admiring the impending sunset. I peeked over at Oliver from the corner of my eye, his expression was blank as his eyes remained glued to the reddening skyline, unaware of my gaze. His arms were folded over her bent knees, dangling his hands lazily between his legs. I put all of my weight upon my palms that rested behind me, my legs extended forward.

"I'm sorry," I blurted out.

"For what?" he smiled, humored by my random statement.

"I know this day didn't turn out to be what you expected," I frowned, adjusting my gaze to the sunset again.

"On the contrary," Oliver smirked, peering over at me. "This day was exactly what I anticipated it to be." I bowed my head in shame, embarrassed thoroughly. "That isn't a bad thing, Winnie."

"How can it not be?"

"You're never boring," he grinned.

"I wager you'd much prefer a nice, relaxing day at Hogsmeade instead of having to sneak about," I replied. "I'm sorry for making you jump through hoops it's not worth it-"

"You're worth it," he interrupted.

"Don't do that," I grimaced.

"Do what?"

"Be so good to me," I said.

"Why?" he asked.

"Because you deserve much better than me," I said. "You're just making it harder for me to get over you."

"You're mad," he objected fiercely.

"It's just... I'm not like all the other girls," I sighed. "I like spending all my time with Fred and George. I like getting muddy, and I don't care about my tan or mucking up my clothes... though they're usually not mine anyway. I'll never be like Alicia or Katie or-"

"I'm far from being flawless, McKinnon, as you've pointed out on countless occasions over the years," he smiled, "and I wouldn't want to spend my time with someone who didn't appreciate my downfalls, each and every one of them. You're perfectly imperfect, and I wouldn't change a thing about you. So stop being so self conscious, and start acting like your usual prat-like self-"

I don't know what came over me. Maybe it was the sunset or maybe the autumn chill froze the commonsense portion of my brain, all I did know was that in a split second my lips were glued to Oliver's. I held my hand against the nook of his neck, hoping he wouldn't reject my romantic gesture. He didn't, thank Merlin. When I felt his hands comb through my hair I knew I had caught him hook, line, and sinker. After a minute or so we separated, smiling against each others' lips. Our foreheads touched, rubbing them aimlessly together until Oliver cupped my face in his palms gently. I smiled, becoming the receiving end of our next lip lock.

The sun began to disappear behind the hillside, taking us a bit longer than usual to notice. Hand in hand, we followed the Honeydukes route back to the castle. My lips were permanently stuck in a giddy smile, and I would have been quite embarrassed if it were bright enough for Oliver to see. I should have been concerned that we were back late and that the others would have most likely returned before us, but I couldn't concentrate on anything negative at the moment.

We separated at the stone witch, Oliver departing to see if he could snatch some leftovers from the Halloween feast that we'd missed while I headed towards Gryffindor Tower. I hummed quietly, feeling as if I were walking on air. I felt like a right git for feeling so caught up with such lovey-dovey thoughts. I was in such a daze that I nearly drowned out the screams of my own name. A crowd was gathered atop the staircase before the Fat Lady. I could hear loud banging, and my name was being shouted desperately from none other than the twins. Pushing through the mob, I climbed over some wide-eyed first years who stood in the front of the audience.

I stood in shocked silence, observing the scene before me. Fred and George were clawing, banging, striking the torn portrait of the Fat Lady. Alicia, Katie, and Angelina were staring at the two gangly redheads with fretful expressions.

"Winnie!" called Fred, "Are you in there?!"

"Open up you bleeding piece of-" George screamed.

"What are you doing?" I asked quietly, surprised I even managed to capture their attention.

"Winnie?" they said in unison.

Fred darted forward, nearly knocking me on my backside. He scooped me up in his arms, holding me in a bone crushing embrace. My arms were locked at my side, unable to move because of his rigid grip. George stared on, and I swear to Merlin if I didn't see it with my own two eyes I wouldn't have believed it myself, but I could have sworn I saw George quickly wipe away a tear that began to stream down his reddening cheek. He looked away from my gaze, peering down at his shoes for a moment. Fred finally set me down, holding my face a bit too snugly in his hands while he locked eyes sternly with me. My head was spinning, having no idea what was actually happening.

"I'm so sorry about this morning. I was a right rotten codger," said Fred frantically. "I shouldn't have... well, I- I was so scared you'd... _we_ were so worried that-"

A wave of guilt began to drown me. I couldn't bare to look in Fred's eyes. He and George had been acting like lunatics with worry because of my selfish decision to lie to them. I felt positively terrible. My chest felt heavy with regret, but I couldn't let on that anything was wrong.

"Calm down, Fred," I said gently. "I'm fine, and I was just as rotten to you. Quit being so nice. I'm not used to it."

"And I thought I'd miss you if somebody offed you," he smirked, releasing me and ruffling my hair.

George strode forward slowly, sidestepping Fred while the other Gryffindors looked on.

"I'm glad you're alright," he said quietly, rubbing the back of his neck. "When we saw that something sliced up the Fat Lady... well, we thought you were still inside and...er-"

"Oh, shut it, George," I smirked. "You were worried about me. Admit it."

"I-" he began.

"Let me through, please," Percy interrupted, bustling importantly through the crowd. "What's the holdup here? You all couldn't have forgotten the password – excuse me. I'm Head Boy –"

And then a silence fell over the crowd, from the front first, so that a chill seemed to spread down the corridor. They heard Percy say, in a suddenly sharp voice. "Don't just stand there, somebody get Professor Dumbledore. Quick."

People's heads turned; those at the back were standing on tiptoe. Moments later Professor Dumbledore was there, sweeping toward the portrait; the Gryffindors squeezed together to let him through, and the three of is moved closer to find out what exactly what did this to the portrait or rather who. Just getting my first real look at the ghastly scene, the Fat Lady was completely vanished from her portrait, which had been slashed so viciously that strips of canvas littered the floor; great chunks of it had been torn away completely. Dumbledore took one look at the ruined painting and turned, his eyes somber, to see Professor McGonagall, Lupin, and Snape hurrying toward him.

"We need to find her," said Dumbledore. "Professor McGonagall, please go to Mr. Filch at once and tell him to search every painting in the castle for the Fat Lady."

"You'll be lucky!" said a cackling voice.

It could be mistaken for none other than Peeves the Poltergeist, bobbing over the crowd and looking delighted, as he always did, at the sight of wreckage or worry.

"What do you mean, Peeves?" asked Dumbledore calmly, and Peeves's grin faded a little. He didn't taunt Dumbledore. Instead he adopted an oily voice that was only slightly more bearable than his cackle.

"Ashamed, Your Headship, sir. Doesn't want to be seen. She's a horrible mess. Saw her running through the landscape up on the fourth floor, sir, dodging between the trees. Crying something dreadful, she was," he said happily. "Poor thing," he added unconvincingly.

"Did she say who did this?" asked Dumbledore quietly.

"Oh yes, Professorhead," said Peeves, with the air of one cradling a large bombshell in his arms. "He got very angry when she wouldn't let him in you see." Peeves flipped over and grinned at Dumbledore from between his own legs. "Nasty temper he's got, that Sirius Black."

A sea of gasps rang out though no words were spoken. I didn't realize it, but I had grasped George's hand as a reflex, and just like Oliver, George did not reject my gesture. He gripped my hand tighter, staring straight ahead with an unreadable expression. I looked sideways up at him for a second before bringing my gaze back onto the torn portrait. The threat of Sirius Black had never been so real until now.

–

_**A/N:** This was not my best. I know, I know, but I promise my next chapter will be better written. How did the whole Oliver/Winnie thing feel for you? I thought it was forced, but I see things differently because I'm the author. Let me know what you think! By the way... I figured that Winnie would make the first move considering she is typically is quite take-charge, and yet again she is not the Mary Sue character who presents herself as a weak, damsel in distress. Er-... I hope she isn't a Mary Sue...?_

_**PS: **Thanks for all the wonderful feedback! I adore you all. I was overwhelmed with the amount of reviews I received that actually said more than "Good. Update soon." Don't get me wrong, I love all my reviews, but I always smile when I get actual feedback. Thanks again, everyone. You are amazing. _

_**PSS:** The quote I used is my one of my all time favorite quotes. It's be Judy Garland, and I am absolutely, positively obsessed with it. && by the way, I will be more thoroughly editing this tomorrow most likely because I need more time than the amount I am allotted right now. Therefore, for the time being... please, excuse any typos that I may have accidentally made throughout._

_**Coming Soon:** George tells Winnie about his date with Alicia, the school sleeps in the Great Hall to beware the threat of Snuffles, Angelina returns an item that Winnie had forgotten she'd forgot, Quidditch begins, and a relationship or two grow stronger..._

_**Please review**. _

_Love Always,  
__Mila_


	9. Chapter 9: The Argyllshire Map

_**Chapter Nine**_

_The Argyllshire Map_

–

_You were born an original.  
Don't die a copy._

–

With an elegant wave of his wand, Dumbledore caused the freshly abandoned portrait hole to swing open. He granted us the privilege of gathering our pajamas before reporting to the Great Hall to spend the night along with the other Houses. McGonagall led the girls up our hallway and Dumbledore headed the group of boys up their own corridor. Nervous and slightly confused whispers swam across our group, the threat of Sirius Black was alive and well. The fact that he was as dangerous as all the papers claimed had been proven with several swipes of a blade. Though I was anxious because of the flight of the Fat Lady, my mind could not breakaway from the guilt I felt for giving Fred and George a fright. I'd lied to them, something I was far from being accustomed to.

Katie and Alicia's mindless babbling about their theories to how Sirius Black managed to get into Hogwarts was drowned out by my thoughts of disappointment in myself. They would have never done that to me, not in a million years. What got into me? I should just breakdown and tell them, shouldn't I?

I yanked my pink shirt over my head before anyone could comment to why I was wearing my least favorite color. I kept on my white camisole and replaced my jeans with the boxer shorts I had worn just before I'd left for Hogsmeade. I threw up my hair in a high ponytail, tossing my dirty clothes carelessly onto the floor after concealing my pink gift from Molls under my pillow. I heaved a heavy sigh, momentarily resting my hands upon my bed, dropping my head downward and closing my eyes. A thud shocked me back to reality, slamming my eyelids back open. A book had been thrust before me. Flipping it over, I discovered it was my own Herbology book. I'd forgotten it, _bloody hell_. Frantically looking back over my shoulder at the culprit, I saw Angelina looking at me with a disappointed expression across her dark features.

"Ang-" I began shakily.

"I thought you might be needing that," she said quietly, making sure the other girls weren't listening.

"It's not what you think," I replied curtly, snatching up my book and slipping it into my messenger bag upon the floor. Angelina crossed her arms over her chest and stared down at me, narrowing her gaze.

"So you didn't sneak off to Hogsmeade when you told everyone you were staying behind to study?" asked Angie, a hint of anger in her tone. "I think either that is the case or Charlie has suddenly attained a desire to improve his library."

"Angie-"

"And I think we both know the likelihood of Charlie collecting Herbology books, or even the likelihood that Charlie can even read is-"

"I get it, _Angelina_," I snapped.

"So are you going to fess up to what you were doing and who you were with, or am I going to have to do some investigating of my own?"

I frowned at her, realizing why exactly she was one of my best friends. She was so much like me, determined and conniving.

"Did anyone else see the book?" I sighed, frowning even more so.

"Just me," she replied. "You're lucky in that respect, I suppose. I grabbed it off the table while everyone was distracted by the two glasses soaring across the room. I don't think any of us have ever seen any evidence of legal business endeavors within the Hog's Head since... well, ever."

"Good," I breathed, relieved.

"Well?"

"Well, what?" I said innocently.

She sent me one of those _come-off-it_ looks that I couldn't stand to look at.

"Winnie, who were you with?" she insisted.

"I can't tell you," I whispered, staring at my feet, trying to concentrate on Katie's theory of Sirius Black's ability to liquify himself which would explain how he escaped the confines of his cell in Azkaban and how he eluded the Dementors.

"Why not?" asked Angie, lowering her intimidating pose.

"Because I just can't, Angelina," I spat, realizing how loud I had become instantly. "Be a friend and pretend you never found that book-"

"Be a friend? Be a friend?!" she hissed, striding forward so she could emphasize her passion without raising her voice and drawing attention towards us. Looking over her shoulder to make certain Alicia and Katie were still rambling on. "How about _you_ be a friend and stop lying, Winnie? Fred, George, and I are your best mates, and you were perfectly content carrying on some charade behind our backs for only Merlin knows how long. That's bloody sick-"

"It was the first time," I said simply.

"Oh, forget it," said Angelina, grabbing her matching pajama top and pulling it over her head.

I stood motionless, staring on at her in stunned silence. Angelina Johnson and I never fought, not seriously at least. We always saw eye-to-eye. I guess we had to, we both had to share similar senses of humor and personality traits to be able to put up with Fred and George every day. But I could tell that she was genuinely disgusted with my behavior. Angie could always trust me. She could always talk to me about Fred, not just because I'm his best friend but because I am her best friend as well. If I was going to hide whatever the bleeding hell I was doing with Oliver from the twins then I should be able to confess what was happening to Angelina. She was more than trustworthy. She'd never betrayed me, not once. I owed her the truth, she deserved that.

Angelina slid a hair tie on her wrist and brushed by me, only getting about two steps behind me before I reluctantly spoke to her.

"Wood," I said so quietly that I was surprised she even heard me.

"What?" she replied, freezing mid-stride without turning to face me. I sighed deeply before replying to her inquisition. I was at the point of no return.

"You wanted to know who I was with," I said in a crude tone. "There's your answer."

The tall Chaser pivoted about to meet my eyes, tilting her head to the side curiously.

"Why didn't you just say so?" she asked, furrowing her brows. "If it was just- Oh, my God you were on a d-"

I rushed forward, covering her mouth with my hand, her eyes as wide as saucers. I released her mouth as soon as I knew she wouldn't speak again. I held my index finger over my lips, indicating for her to be quiet. Her voice significantly lower, she started again.

"Bleeding hell, Win," she breathed. "You and Oliver?"

"It's not how it looks-" I began. "No, it is exactly how it looks actually."

"Why didn't you tell me?" she inquired, somewhat offended. "I'm surprised Fred didn't open his big gob and- wait a minute, you haven't told them, have you?"

I shook my head in shame.

"I can hardly blame you," she said to my surprise. "They aren't exactly the most understanding of sorts when it comes to romantic relationships. You sort of have to date one of them to avoid harassment about your love life."

I snorted and nodded in reply.

"You can't tell anyone, Ang," I whispered. "Oliver and I agreed not to tell anyone, and I don't want the whole bloody school finding out. I'll tell the Twins when I feel it's the right time, when I know whatever it is that Oliver and I are doing is going to last, but I don't know know what I would do if they found out from anyone else besides me. It would really hurt them. Promise me, Angelina, cross your heart."

"I swear," she smiled sadly, crisscrossing her thumb diagonally from one shoulder down then the next.

I trusted her. I usually didn't believe any such promises from the mouth of any female besides Ginny, but Angelina was my only other exception. I knew she wouldn't breathe a word to anyone because she respected our friendship enough not to jeopardize it. She knew I would do the same, and I had never betrayed her trust in the past nor would I ever in the future.

I slid on my thick wool socks and strode down the staircase after Angelina, meeting Fred and George outside the portrait hole. George looked a bit ill, his strained expression from before still evident. Fred, however, was back to his usual moronic self, thank Merlin. McGonagall was giving the three of us her typical firm stare, her lips as tight as ever. She was obviously not enjoying the idea of herding us to the Great Hall when she, like all the other professors, wanted to hurry to search the castle for Sirius Black. Dumbledore had undoubtedly gone on without her.

"Mister Longbottom, please refrain from bringing your trunk," she sighed. "I cannot foresee more than one night being spent in the Great Hall, please bring the bare minimum."

"Is this too big of a carry-on, Professor?' asked Fred, plucking me up off the ground and holding me around my waist, under his arm like I was an oversized football. I crossed my arms over my chest, pretending to pout, instead of fighting a losing battle against him. McGonagall frowned, rolling her eyes at us while George snickered in the background.

"Mister Weasley, this is certainly not the appropriate time for your jokes," McGonagall warned.

"You know, Professor, I've found over the years that the most inappropriate times for jokes are when they are the most necessary," said Fred, setting me back down onto my two feet.

"Oh, just come along and keep your mouths closed for once," said McGonagall, obviously impressed by Fred's sentiment but unwilling to acknowledge it.

The three of us slapped our palms over our mouths, wide-eyed and dramatic. We then began to try to speak to each other through muffled muttering whilst we followed behind the large group of Gryffindors. We grew bored of our display halfway there and then proceeded to creep behind terrified first years and jump out to scare them even more, one even fell over in fright. McGonagall took five points from Gryffindor, but like all our pranks, it was worth the laugh. When we arrived in the Great Hall, it was covered from wall to wall with comfortable-looking sleeping bags. McGonagall started to deliver some speech about safety, but the lot of us were already looking for sleeping bags to snatch before she could get three syllables out of her mouth. Luckily, I spotted May sneak in through the large doors, quickly scurrying to my side. Maybe she could sense the fear that was encompassing the castle as well. I lifted her up into my arms, cradling her against my chest, pleased to know she was safe.

Out of the corner of my eye I saw Oliver against the far wall, surrounded by several of his roguish friends. I deducted he must have been sent to the Great Hall straight away from the library because he was still wearing his clothes from the afternoon. Our eyes locked and he sent me a weak reassuring smile as if he was trying to tell me everything was going to be alright. He didn't know I wasn't taking the whole Sirius Black situation as seriously as I should. I merely curled up one side of my mouth into a faint grin and half-nodded in his direction.

"Freddie?" apparently Fred had been trying to grasp my attention for a minute or two without avail. I jerked my head back to meet his eyes, swallowing hard. He had a suspicious expression about him, peering over in the direction I had been looking at for any oddity that could have been distracting me. He found none. "You alright then, Freddie?"

"Fine," I said a bit too quickly.

Fred raised a curious eyebrow as he drug two sleeping bags beside George against the wall nearest to the large wooden doors.

"What?" I asked viciously.

"Where were you exactly?" asked Fred, releasing the two sleeping bags as George walked over to have a quick word with Lee. "You know, instead of being in the common room, where did you go off to?"

"I went down to the green houses if you must know," I lied, continuing the spinning of the already tangled web I'd woven. "I was examining a few last minute samples before the exam. Why?"

"Just wondering," he said in a less than confident tone.

"Everyone to their sleeping bags!" shouted Percy, breaking the uncomfortable silence Fred and I shared. "Come now, no more talking! Lights out in ten!"

Too exhausted to argue, the three of us crawled into our sleeping bags, me in the middle as usual. May snuggled up beside my head to drift off to sleep, her soft purrs serving as a quiet lullaby. It was no secret that most of the students weren't going to get much sleep, not with a mass murderer within Hogwarts' walls. A sea of hushed whispers engulfed the Great Hall for the ten minutes of leeway Percy had granted us to get situated.

"The lights are going out now!" Percy shouted. "I want everyone in their sleeping bags with no more talking!"

The candles all went out at once. The only light now came from the silvery ghosts, who were drifting about talking seriously to the prefects, and the enchanted ceiling, which, like the sky outside, was scattered with stars. What with that, and the whispering that still filled the hall, I felt as though I were sleeping outdoors in a light wind. Fred, unlike George, had always had the ability to fall asleep in any situation possible, no matter how anxious or intense the atmosphere. It was no more than five minutes before I heard the ever so familiar sound of his dull snore in my ears. I laid on my back, staring up at the stars. My exhaustion seemed to be pushed to back of my conscious for the moment, opting to choose mindless staring at the sky over examining the inside of my eyelids. I knew George was still awake judging by the fact that his identical snore was not yet audible. Rolling over suddenly, adjusting my head on the pillow for ultimate comfort, I stared over at the gangly redhead who was casually staring up at the ceiling as I had just been doing.

"Hey," I whispered as quietly as possible, smiling weakly. "You've been pretty quiet this evening."

"I thought you'd be enjoying the silence considering you're typically the one telling me to shut my bleeding trap," he smirked, his eyes still glued upon the dark sky above.

"I would have thought that after all these years of knowing me you would have learned to never take me seriously," I said. "I just adore hearing your voice. It sort of sounds like two banshees mating."

"Oh, you're just a delight," George grinned, rolling over onto his side to face me.

"Well, I know that, but I'm surprised it took you this long to realize it," I teased, poking his nose playfully with my index finger.

"You know, if I didn't like you so much I'd hate you," said George, pinching my cheek.

"Speaking of liking people..." I egged him on. "I've been meaning to ask you about your little date. How did it go?"

The smile that had just occupied his childish face faded in an instant. And once I saw his grin fade, mine did as well.

"It was fine," he replied curtly.

"You have to give me more details than that," I urged.

"I swear to Merlin, Freddie, she didn't let go of my bloody arm the entire afternoon," he frowned.

"You're being melodramatic," I sighed. "Besides her being a bit clingy, did you have a good time?"

"Melodramatic?" he scoffed. "I have claw marks and an appointment to get checked for rabies on Monday."

"George-" I frowned.

"I don't hate her," he replied before I could scold him. "I just don't like her...like that, per say."

"How did things end?" I inquired hopefully. "Do you think you will give things another go or what?"

"I told her that I need my space," he explained. "Then I said we'll see how things go and in a few months if we are both still single then we'll go on another date. I just don't want to be tied down to one girl right now. I mean, I just have so many other options-"

"Yes, George, little girls who kiss frogs expect them to turn into you," I said sarcastically. "You're just the Casanova of Hogwarts."

"Do I sense sarcasm?" he grinned devilishly. "I know I shouldn't because we both know that girls fall in love with me at first sight."

"But they change their mind once they take a second look," I teased, smiling despite myself.

George snickered at my retort, shoving his face into his pillow atop his sleeping bag, trying to silence his giggling from Percy's ears. Biting my bottom lip sufficed for a silencer for me.

"But really, George," I whispered, returning to our more serious subject. "I'm glad you at least gave Leesh a chance. It means a lot to me. I know how much she likes you, and I thought that maybe you two would hit it off if you ever really gave things a go. Maybe in a few months things will come together after all."

"Maybe," said George in a less than convincing tone. "It's just... it's hard for me to find a girl I can get on with because I can't help but compare them to y-"

"You two need to shut your mouths and your eyes and go to sleep," Percy hissed from several sleeping bags down.

We instantly shut our eyes for about sixty seconds, the standard amount of time for us to pretend to abide by any rule. We each slowly lifted an eyelid. Whispering much softer than before, I opened my mouth first.

"What were you saying?" I asked.

"I was just saying that I think my standards are too high is all," he rephrased. "I'm just so used to being around you that I almost expect every girl to be like you. You know, be like funny and not all concerned with stupid girly things."

"Most girls aren't like me, George," I replied. "I'm sort of a freak."

"You're not a freak," he retorted quickly. "Well, not in that sense at least."

"Gee, thanks," I smirked.

"You know what I mean," he sighed. "I just- just promise you won't ever change, Freddie. I don't know what I'd do if you turned into one of those narcissistic girls."

"I won't ever change, cross my heart," I whispered. "But you have to promise me you won't ever turn into a right dozy plonker like Montague."

"Now, Freddie, you know I can't make that sort of promise," George smirked cheekily. "Considering Graham Montague is the summation of everything I aspire to be like in life."

"That joke isn't funny," I frowned.

"Who said it was a joke?" George teased, chuckling lightly. "I mean the bloke is the best looking gorilla I've ever seen and not to mention he has already achieved more in his fifteen years of life than anyone ever expected him to. I mean for Christ's sake, Freddie, the minger learned how to read. He deserves some sort of award or at least a scratch behind the ears for that."

"Oh, shut up and go to sleep," I giggled, rolling over to see Fred's drooling unconscious face.

–

_His face was twisted and almost inhuman. His hair was filthy and matted in the kindness description, hanging down to his elbows. His eyes were as dark as coal. If they hadn't been shining out of their deep, dark sockets, he might have been confused with a corpse. The waxy skin was stretched so tightly over the bones of his face, it looked like a skull. His yellow teeth were bared in a vicious expression, threatening in nature. It was almost as if life itself had been exhumed from his two irises, draining any redeeming qualities from his very being. It was him in the flesh, it was Sirius Black._

_He was shouting nonsense, it sounded as if we were underwater, drowning in confusion. Slowly his yells become more clear. The invisible water that had been gagging his throat seemed to dissipate. _

"_I SAID 'LET ME IN!'" _

"_And I said, 'Not without the password,'" a voice that was not my own said severely though it felt as if it came from my own mouth._

"_I am giving you one last chance," said Sirius Black, his voice so terrifying that my breath became caught in my throat. "Open up or you will regret the consequences."_

"_I am the dutiful guardian of Gryffindor Tower, young man," the voice spat. "and I do not respond favorably to threats especially not from someone as hygienically challenged as yourself. I will be happy to grant you entry inside once you supply me with the proper password-"_

_Then before I could even process what I had done to provoke the maniac, he pulled a knife from his baggy prison garb and charged at me. He swung the sharp dagger like mad across me, and for some reason I didn't bleed. I could hear a sick shredding sound ringing in my eardrums as I screamed at the top of my lungs, a scream that was so high pitched that there was no feasible way it could belong to me. His expression was animalistic, there was no possible way to stop him from his fury, his psychotic wrath. He grunted like mad after each jab, almost releasing years of rage upon me, an innocent bystander. _

"_Please! Stop! Please!" I begged at the top of my lungs._

_My pleas were futile, he was unstoppable. I was done for, so I ran. Except I wasn't running... it was like I was gliding. My feet didn't touch the floor, but I managed to escape for now. I had to get as far away as possible before he could finish me off..._

–

I gasped loudly, shooting up from my slumber. It probably looked like I had just climbed out of a pool because I was covered from head to toe in a cold sweat, freezing my insides. My heart felt as if it would explode from my chest, erupt from the rapid pace it was beating at. I grasped my chest, violently gasping for air. My eyes looked like saucers, my hair clinging to my face as my sweat acted as some sort of glue. I was trembling uncontrollably, and I couldn't stop. It was as if I was having a mild seizure except more horrifying. Though I knew I had just had a nightmare, I had never experienced a dream so real in my entire life. It was as if I was The Fat Lady, like I was being attacked. May had jumped up at my abrupt start and moved down by my feet. Fred and George had been woken up by my unstable attempts to breathe.

"Freddie, what's the matter?" one of them asked, I couldn't even consciously distinguish which one. I was still in some bizarre trance, unaware of what was fantasy and what was reality.

"Freddie? Snap out of it!" the other hissed. "What the hell is wrong with her?"

A set of footsteps quickly approached, my eyes remained straight ahead. I knew it had to be Percy because his voice sounded so familiar. Then all three of them were whispering frantically, none of their words made any sense anymore. I saw Percy's face before mine though I remained in this catatonic state that did not grant me the ability to move, speak or breathe for that matter. I felt his hand on my cheek, his face displayed genuine concern, not just his usual bland expression.

"Come on," Percy whispered drastically, lightly tapping my cheek with his fingers. "Snap out it, Freddie!"

I don't know if it was the slap to the face or the fact that Percy had called me "Freddie," which he hadn't done in years, but with one final abrupt gasp, I could function again. I blinked several times, looking from Fred to George and back to Percy for some sort of explanation for what had just happened to me.

"W-What happened?" I breathed.

"I think we should be asking you that," said Percy, his voice uneasy.

"I-I had a nightmare," I said hoarsely.

"Normal people don't act like that after a nightmare, Winifred," said Percy, his formalities returning slowly but surely.

"I saw Sirius Black," I said in a shaky tone. "He was stabbing me and-"

"What about Argyllshire?" asked Percy abruptly, interrupting my explanation.

"What about Argyllshire?" I repeated, confused.

"You were mumbling nonsense about it," said Fred kindly, pulling me close against him.

"Something like "Find me in Argyllshire," said George, his expression as frightened as it had been when the two of them believed me to still be inside Gryffindor Tower that evening.

"I don't know what you're talking about," I insisted.

"Just try to go back to sleep and maybe stop by the Hospital Wing tomorrow," said Percy, annoyed with my reluctance to admit he was telling the truth. "See if Madam Pomphrey has a draught of some sort to help you deal with nightmares for awhile or something."

I simply nodded, too tired to put up any fight. Percy took to his feet, looking back at me with a slightly worried expression before returning his attention to his job at hand. I laid down, pulling my knees against my chest but keeping my eyes wide open. Fred and George exchanged uneasy glances before lying beside me.

"You sure you're alright?" asked George tentatively.

"I know you probably think I'm off my rocker," I said with no emotion in my voice, my face blank.

"Well, yeah, but not because of this little incident," said Fred, trying to lift my spirits and failing miserably. "This was an on going development since birth."

"Really, Fred," I said. "I don't know what's happening to me. I'm scared."

"You've never been scared of anything in your entire life," he scoffed.

"Well, there's a first time for everything," I frowned.

"It was just a bad dream, Freddie," said Fred. "You're just exhausted and didn't wake up immediately from it. Just try and get a bit more sleep. You don't want to be off your game for Quidditch tomorrow because Merlin knows Oliver won't let a little serial killer muck up his practice schedule."

I nodded, knowing deep down that he was just trying to reassure me though he didn't believe it himself. I had experienced something much more than a nightmare, but I just didn't know what it exactly was yet. I closed my eyes, the images replaying in my head while I tried desperately to understand what Argyllshire had to do with anything. I jumped slightly when I felt an arm wrap around me. George had wrapped his lengthy arm around my waist, pulling me so my back rested against his chest. He didn't have to say anything to explain why he did what he did. I knew that was his way of reassuring me, letting me know that he was there if I needed him. It put my mind at ease to feel the steady rhythm of his chest rising and falling against my spine.

I'd almost fallen back to sleep an hour or so later, long after the twins had, when I heard Professor Dumbledore return with McGonagall and Snape as well. Keeping my eyes closed, I tried to listen in on their conversation through the soft snores of Fred and George.

"And the Fat Lady, sir?" I heard Percy inquire.

"Hiding in a map of Argyllshire on the second floor. Apparently she refused to let Black in without the password, so he attacked. She's still very distressed, but once she's calmed down, I'll have Mr. Filch restore her," said Professor Dumbledore.

"_Argyllshire_ you say, sir?" asked Percy in a high pitched voice.

"Yes-" Dumbledore started. "Are you quite alright, Mr. Weasley? You look rather pale."

"Fine, sir," he said suspiciously fast.

"Alright then," Dumbledore sighed. "Well, no use moving all of them this late. We'll let them return to their dormitories in the morning... you're sure you're alright, son?"

"I'm certain, sir," he said in an unconvincing voice. "Just a bit tired, you understand."

"Of course," he replied kindly. "Try and catch a few hours of shuteye before the morning comes. I fear that many of your classmates have experienced less than satisfactory nights of sleep as well."

"Oh, I'm sure of that, sir," said Percy, feeling his eyes upon me.

–

_**A/N: **Don't ask me why, but this was an extremely hard chapter to write. It took me forever to like completely get out on paper. I just needed to elude to Winnie's developing ability and have some twinsie action. Check out 'Nothing But Words' if you want another read from me!_

_**PS: **Thank you all for you wonderful feedback. I adore you all. I love comments that are more than a couple words (don't get me wrong I love ALL feedback) because it seems like this fic earns more genuinely informative reviews than any of my other ones. Thank you all._

_**PSS:** Check out my trailer for this fic that I made on my YouTube channel. Feedback appreciated._

_**Coming Soon:** Winnie and Percy have a little chat that the twins are unknowingly left out of, the first Quidditch match against Hufflepuff, Montague is a raging git, Oliver pisses Winnie the bloody hell off, Alicia is passive aggressive, the trio waves goodbye to the Marauder's Map, Winnie has another vision but this one isn't from the past but the future..._

**Review, please.**


	10. Chapter 10: The Quidditch Captain

_**Chapter Ten**_

_The Quidditch Captain_

–

_Apology is a lovely perfume; it can transform  
the clumsiest moment into a gracious gift._

–

I'd woken up before Fred and George, no surprise there, considering I really hadn't fallen asleep to begin with. How could I after hearing the conversation between Percy and Dumbledore? How did I know where the Fat Lady was hiding? More than that, how did I not know I knew? I don't know how George managed to sleep with my constant shivering against him. When the sun began to rise, several students started to wake. The early risers were allowed to return to their dormitories, so I took it upon myself to slither out from under George's grasp and head off to try and get at least a nap's worth of sleep in my own bed. I'd only managed to get just outside the Great Hall when I felt a hand take hold of my wrist. It was Percy.

"Bloody hell, Perce," I gasped. "You scared the bogies out of me."

"How did you know where the Fat Lady was hiding?" he inquired bluntly, dark circles evident under his blue eyes.

"I didn't know," I replied. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"I know you were eavesdropping on my conversation with Professor Dumbledore," he said. "I've known you long enough to know when you're faking being asleep. Now, tell me how you knew where she was."

"I told you, Percy," I said severely, looking him square in the eyes. "I don't know. I don't even remember saying anything about Argyllshire last night, you lot were the ones who told me I did."

"This isn't a prank?"

"No," I frowned. "Whatever happened to me last night is as much of a mystery to me as it is to you. I'm scared this might happen again, I'm really scared, Perce."

Before I could react, Percy pulled me into a hug. It was probably the most awkward hug on record and that includes the time McGonagall embraced me after realizing I wasn't going to croak from falling off my broom against Slytherin my second year. Bludger to the head, three minutes in, Fred and George still say it's only improved my IQ. Bloody plonkers. Anyways, I didn't hug Percy back. I just sort of stood there, rigid as a board, not like he noticed. My face was shoved so hard against his chest that I could barely breathe. I don't think Percy was accustomed to gestures of affection. I struggled to turn my head to the side, one eye wide open while the other couldn't open at all.

"It's going to be alright, Freddie," he said kindly. "We're like family, I won't let you become a raging tosspot."

"Thanks, Percy," I managed to choke out. "But for now I'm a bit more concerned with being able to breathe –"

"Oh, right, sorry," he said, embarrassed as he quickly released me. His face turned as red as a tomato. Percy and I had never really gotten along all that well. I loved the bloke, don't get me wrong, but our personalities went together like peanut butter and ketchup.

"'S alright," I shrugged, amused at his brief window of candor.

"But if you have a repeat incident then come to me straight away," he urged.

"Will do," I smirked, giving him a mock salute. "Thanks, Perce. You know, you can be pretty decent when you're not being an uptight prat."

"I can say the same about you when you're not being an immature twit," he said, a rare smile sneaking across his thin lips.

"It's too bad you'll always be an uptight prat, and I'll always be an immature twit," I smiled.

"Yeah," he chuckled lightly, almost in a sad way.

"Er- well, I'm off to try and sneak in an hour or two of sleep before the twins wake me up for some shenanigans you will undoubtedly disapprove of," I sighed.

"Right," he said curtly. "You'll find Sir Cadogen is the temporary replacement for the Fat Lady."

"Sir Cadogen?" I scoffed. "That tosser knight from the seventh floor? That bloke is off his trolley, always shouting nonsense about duels to anyone who passes by his portrait."

"None of the other pictures wanted the job," said Percy. "You can hardly blame them. Sir Cadogen was the only one brave enough to volunteer."

"I think you're confusing brave with insane," I replied.

"Well, that's neither here nor there," said Percy. "You just need to know the new password is _Hurdling Hippogriffs_. I'll walk you –"

"'S alright, Perce," a familiar voice interrupted. "I'm on my way there as well, I'll escort McKinnon. You're needed here anyhow."

_Oliver_.

"Ah, Wood," said Percy, nodding at the taller seventh year. "Thank you."

Oliver was still rubbing the sleep from his eyes, clearly he did not receive a decent night's sleep either. His hair was unkempt as well as the clothes he had worn the previous day and been forced to sleep in. I felt a blush fighting to spread across my cheeks when I realized how handsome he looked with his several pieces of his usually pristine hair sticking up in different directions. Therefore, I did what I always did, I went on the defense to stop myself from displaying any real sense of emotion.

"I don't need an escort from anyone," I frowned, rolling my eyes.

"You're a pain," said Oliver. "You know that, McKinnon?"

"And you're an annoying –"

"Get a move on, Winifred," said Percy, returning to his severe demeanor, "and don't be such a prat."

Oliver and I walked in silence all the way down the open corridor, making certain Percy had completely disappeared back inside the Great Hall. Once the coast was clear, Oliver tentatively took my hand in his.

"So I'm a pain, eh?" I teased.

"And I'm annoying, huh?" he chuckled.

"That surprises you?" I grinned. "I would have thought you would have come to terms with your annoyingness by now."

"How could I not with so many reminders from you over the years?" he smirked.

We returned to our silent stroll for several minutes before Oliver spoke again.

"So what was all that with Percy, if you don't mind me asking?" asked Wood, peering down at me. "You two have never been partial to casual conversation between the pair of you."

"I just had a nightmare, and he was checking up on me," I explained, attempting to remain nonchalant and failing miserably, "nothing major."

"Now why do I find that hard to believe?" he grinned coyly.

"It's the truth," I insisted. "He's just making mountains out of molehills."

"So what was this nightmare about then?" he inquired.

"I dreamt that I was dating this nosy Quidditch Captain who asked too many questions," I teased, trying to change the subject. "It was traumatizing, really."

"Alright, alright," Oliver mused, placing a sloppy kiss on the top of my head. "If you don't want to talk about then you don't have to."

–

The school talked of nothing but Sirius Black for the next few days. The theories about how he had entered the castle became wilder and wilder; Maddy Crouch, from Ravenclaw, spent much of our next Divination class telling anyone who'd listen that Black must be using a polyjuice potion to take the form of Mrs. Norris. To be honest, it was the most logical explanation I'd heard, not surprising considering it came from a Ravenclaw, the smartest one at that. I'd overheard Hannah Abbot, from Hufflepuff, rambling on about Black turning into a flowering shrub. Give me a bleeding break.

The Fat Lady's ripped canvas had been taken off the wall and replaced with the portrait of Sir Cadogan and his fat gray pony. Nobody was very happy about this, as I expected. Sir Cadogan spent half his time challenging people to duels, and the rest thinking up ridiculously complicated passwords, which he changed at least twice a day. He was an utter tosspot.

The weather worsened as the first Quidditch match drew nearer. Undaunted, the Gryffindor team was training harder than ever under the watchful eye of Madam Hooch because of Sirius Black's vendetta against our four-eyes Seeker. Then, at the final training session before Saturday's match, Oliver gave us all some unwelcome news.

"We're not playing Slytherin!" he told us, looking angrier than I'd seen him all year."Montague's just told me," Oliver's eyes lingered on me a moment longer than everyone else. "We're playing Hufflepuff instead."

"Why?" chorused the rest of us.

"Montague's excuse is that their Seeker's arm's still injured," said Wood, grinding his teeth furiously. "But it's obvious why they're doing it. Don't want to play in this weather. Think it'll damage their chances..."

There had been strong winds and heavy rain all day, and as Oliver spoke, we heard a distant rumble of thunder.

"There's nothing wrong with Malfoy's arm!" said Harry furiously. "He's faking it!"

"I know that, but we can't prove it," said Wood bitterly. "And we've been practicing all those moves assuming we're playing Slytherin, and instead it's Hufflepuff, and their style's quite different. They've got a new Captain and Seeker, Cedric Diggory –"

Angelina and Katie suddenly giggled. I merely rolled my eyes.

"What?" asked Oliver, frowning at their sudden lighthearted behavior.

"They fancy him," I said apathetically, earning furrowed brows from the boys. "Most girls think he's rather good-looking."

"He's tall and handsome," said Angelina whimsically, spotting Fred's gaze narrow out of the corner of my eye.

"Strong and silent," said Katie, and they started to giggle again.

"He's only silent because he's too thick to string two words together," said Fred impatiently.

"I have to agree with Fred, as much as I hate to admit it," I smirked, winking at him in jest. "We used to play with us when we were kids, seeing as he lives down the road from us. Diggory's the kind of bloke that has never been known to use a word that would send a reader to a dictionary."

George, Fred, and Harry snickered at my comment, and I swear I even saw a brief smirk from Oliver before he swallowed it away.

"But really, Oliver, I don't know why you're worried," said George. "Hufflepuff is a pushover. Last time we played them, Harry caught the Snitch within the first five minutes, remember?"

"We were playing in completely different conditions!" Oliver shouted, his eyes bulging slightly. "Diggory's put a very strong side together! He's an excellent Seeker! I was afraid you'd take it like this! We mustn't relax! We must keep our focus! Slytherin is trying to wrong-foot us! We _must_ win!"

"Oliver, calm down!" said Fred, looking slightly alarmed. "We're taking Hufflepuff very seriously. _Seriously_."

–

Herbology with the Slytherins was not exactly something I had to look forward to when I woke up in the morning, a headache already ruining my day before it had even truly begun. The weather remained dreary and dim, sucking the life out of any possibility I had for a cheerful day. I brushed my hair in a hurry, tied my unruly locks into my two, long signature pigtails, tossed on my uniform and fumbled down the stairs to meet the boys for class. We'd decided as a whole that breakfast on days that occupied any class with the Slytherins were not worthy of breakfast, fifteen minutes into class it already felt like our morning meal would be resurfacing the way it entered anyhow thanks to the combination of the grotesque aroma of the dung daffodils and Montague's hygienic deficiencies.

We were all still in rotten moods from hearing the news that our first match had been rescheduled to be against Hufflepuff and knowing we were about to see the brains behind that entire facade only made our inevitably dismal class all the more gloomy.

"Your beauty captivates me, milady," said Sir Cadogan, bowing to me in his clanging armor as I exited the portrait hole after Fred, George, and Lee.

"He's a complete barmpot," I muttered, glaring at the nutter knight from over my shoulder.

"He'd have to be barmy to be captivated by _your_ beauty," George teased.

"He says that to every girl, you prat," I retorted, rubbing my forehead zealously, "so sod off."

"Oh, I can already tell that you're just going to be a ray of sunshine today," said Fred, ruffling his unkempt hair through his fingers. "Let's hurry and get to the dungeons because with a combination of yours and Montague's cheery dispositions all together in one room I'm sure that I'll be pissing rainbows by noon after all the pleasantness I'll undoubtedly absorb."

"Fred, you should consider yourself lucky that it's too early for me to have enough energy to deck you," I yawned, "because if it were after noon then the only thing you could count on pissing would be blood."

"Merlin, what would I do without you?" said Fred, wrapping his arm around my shoulders lazily and pulled me against him into some sort of hug I suppose.

"Probably suffer a fifty percent decrease in detentions," I smirked, wrapping my arms around his waist momentarily.

"Chances are high," said Fred.

We ran into Angelina before departing onto the grounds, and had gotten nearly halfway to the greenhouses before we ran into the barbarian himself. Montague Adrian Pucey were immaturely shoving each other from behind us. Fred and George kept trying to turn around and start something with the lot of them, but I kept a firm hold on either of their arms whilst still trying to hold George's jacket that he'd lent me to shield myself from the heavy downpour. The two boys kept shouting offensive, sexual comments directed towards me while I fought my own temperament to stop myself from retorting. When they began tossing gravel at our backs from behind, my fingernails had nearly pierced through my entire palm.

"I wager you lot are pretty distraught you won't get to see Slytherins' remarkable skills this weekend," Adrian Pucey teased from behind us. "Too bad Draco's injured, we were really looking forward to pummeling you into oblivion."

"Sod off, Pucey," George yelled back at the roguish Slytherin Chaser. "You know as well as we do that Malfoy's faking that injury to give you lot an excuse not to play in this weather."

"Aw, sounds like you're not too confident in your teams abilities if you're so upset that you have to play _Hufflepuff_," said Adrian, clocking me in the back of the knee with a stone. "Is that fear I smell, _Weasley_?"

"Montague, you don't know the meaning of the word fear," said Lee. "In fact, you don't know the meaning of most words."

"And that smell... that's not fear, it's just you," I retorted. "For the sake of humanity, Graham, pick up a bar of soap."

"And the only mildly frightening thing about the Slytherin Quidditch team that I can think of would be how terrifyingly low your combined IQ's are," George retorted.

"If we were competing against one another for the highest number number of players required to change a light bulb then you lot would be a shoe-in for the Cup," said Angelina viciously.

"However, considering the fact that you require actual talent and strategic skills to win a Quidditch match it appears as if you're likelihood for success if pretty dismal," said Fred, adding to Angelina's comment and smiling approvingly at her.

"Well, I will admit that you lot would defeat us is one subset," said Montague in a sickening seductive voice.

"What's that, _Montague_?" asked Lee fiercely, pronouncing Graham's surname as if it were cancerous.

"The best arse," he smirked. "McKinnon would be the MVP in that department."

I rolled my eyes. I knew he was going to say that because he'd said it before. When the door to the greenhouses came within reach, I was ecstatic to be able to get away from the moronic remarks from him for awhile at least.

"You better shut your goddamn mouth, Montague!" George shouted at the neanderthal.

"Aw, Graham, it looks like he's pretty protective of his ittle girlfriend," Pucey teased in his baby voice. "You're not going to take that, are you?"

"Of course I'm not going to take that," called Montague, "especially not from someone whose family takes handouts from beggars."

The two monstrous Slytherins erupted in laughter.

"Oh, that's it," I planted down one heel in the earth and pivoted about to face him. I prepared to charge the giant oaf, but I was beaten to he punch. Fred, George, and Lee had already propelled themselves towards the pair. Angelina had wrapped her arms around my waist and hoisted me in the air as I fought to free myself from her grasp. Now I knew why George was so mad at me for holding him back from Montague during our first Potion's lesson of the year. It was infuriating feeling completely helpless.

"Winnie, stop fighting," Angeline pleaded. "It's pointless, you know the barmy git is practically turned on my masochism anyway. You'd just be leading him on with every punch you throw."

A flash of light erupted and shot the five boys in five different directions, the stunning spell courtesy of Professor Sprout. Fred and Adrian literally had their heels over their heads from the shock. Angelina knew it was safe to release me once the brawl was broken up. George had a small gash upon his lip and Pucey already had a bruise growing around his left eye.

"Gentlemen, restrain yourselves," said Professor Sprout, her hands on her hips. "Fifteen points from Gryffindor, ten from Slytherin, five for each of your digressions."

"But, Professor—" I started.

"I don't want to hear it, Ms. McKinnon," she replied. "You're lucky I don't take another five points from Gryffindor and make it an even twenty, considering your track record shows you are typically less than innocent in most deviant situations. Now, all of you, inside before I can add tardiness to your list of offenses."

"Yes, Professor," the seven of us mumbled.

Adrian led the way through the greenhouse door, undoubtedly to tell a heroic tale in which he clobbered the three Gryffindors for contesting Slytherin's noble honor. Fred and Angelina followed after him, muttering between the two of them about how Slytherins should all be sterilized or something or other whilst Lee and George began reenacting the fight in dramatic fashion all the while Professor Sprout glared at the pair of them for being proud of their immature display. She completely missed Graham extending his arm and grabbing my bottom.

"Yep, MVP for sure," he smirked wickedly in my ear.

I turned about hastily, not missing a beat, and punched him square in the nose. He groaned loudly, clasping his injured body part while a steady flow of blood began to trickle through his thick closed fingers. I grabbed his tie and yanked him a close to me as my strength would allow.

"Touch me again, Graham Montague, and there will be a certain other bodily appendage I'd be more worried about if I were you," I whispered ferociously, releasing his tie like it was garbage.

"Ms. McKinnon?" Professor Sprout gasped, looking from me to Montague and back again.

"Yeah, better make that an even twenty after all, Professor," I said apathetically, turning my back to the entire scene and taking my usual seat beside Angelina, extremely pleased with myself.

–

A loud rumble of thunder woke me not long after four, the sun hadn't even thought about rising yet. Grumbling to myself, I rolled over and clutched my pillow around my head. It was too late, however, since that one loud jolt had woken me, I found it impossible to ignore the following earsplitting roars from the pitch black sky. I gave in to the storm and slowly rolled over to sit up on the side of my bed, rubbing my eyes with my closed fists. My long, raven hair was sticking out every which way from my enormous, loose bun. I simply took out my hairband and threw my lengthy locks back into a large, now tighter bun. Then I reached for my Quidditch robes from my closet and lazily dressed myself, grabbed my Nimbus and headed out the dormitory without a single sound.

The noise of the storm was even louder in the common room. I knew better than to think the match would be canceled; Quidditch matches weren't called off for trifles like thunderstorms. I came across Harry, who was sitting before the fire. We merely nodded to one another, neither of us awake enough to speak just yet. I hadn't been downstairs with Harry more than a few minutes before I saw Oliver descending the coiled staircase, looking unusually awake for someone out and about before five in the morning. His eyes were like saucers, his mind obviously erratic.

"Good morning," he said as if he'd just digested a pound of caffeine.

"Morning, Wood," I smirked. "You seem chipper."

"It's a match day," he replied simply. "I'm just mentally preparing myself."

"Ah, so that's what that is," I grinned wickedly. "I was wondering with that _deer-in-headlights_ expression translated to."

"I am quite conscious, McKinnon," said Oliver. "Now, if you excuse me, I'm going to go for my morning run about the castle. I'll see to you both at breakfast."

Without blinking, even once, Oliver pivoted like a robot to exit out the portrait hole. Harry and I stared on after him before Harry finally spoke for the first time, turning to face me.

"Merlin, he's weird," he smirked.

"If that isn't the understatement of the century," I nodded, eyeing the portrait hole as it slammed shut behind him.

Harry and I whiled away the hours until dawn in front of the fire, getting up every now and then to stop Crookshanks from sneaking up the boys' staircase again. Oliver returned an hour or so later to grab his robe to shower before changing into his uniform. At long last Harry and I thought it must be time for breakfast, so we headed through the portrait hole together.

"Stand and fight, you mangy cur!" yelled Sir Cadogen at Harry while he held the portrait open for me to walk ahead of him. "You are not worthy of such a damsel!"

"Oh, shut up," Harry yawned, both of us rolling our eyes at the idiotic painting.

–

Such was the popularity of Quidditch that the whole school turned out to watch the match as usual, but they ran down the lawns toward the Quidditch field, heads bowed against the ferocious wind, umbrellas being whipped out of their hands as they went. Just before we entered the locker room, I saw Malfoy, Crabbe, Goyle, and Montague laughing and pointing at the lot of us from under an enormous umbrella on their way to the stadium. My blood began to boil, clenching my fists as a reflex.

The team changed into their scarlet robes and waited for Wood's usual pre-match pep talk, but it didn't come. He tried to speak several times, made an odd gulping noise, then shook his head hopelessly and beckoned us to follow him. I felt sympathetic for him, sending him a sad yet encouraging smile. We lined up to exit the lockers, Oliver remaining in the rear instead taking his usual position of leading us all onto the field. Pretending to adjust my bootstraps while the others walked on ahead, I took hold of Oliver's hand before he followed suit and held him in place. I slowly took to my feet and placed a soft kiss upon his cheek. His expression relaxed significantly after I pulled away, the corners of his mouth curling into a feeble, thankful grin for a quick second. He leaned in and kissed my lips, closing his eyes for one euphoric moment. Then he pulled away, resting his forehead against mine lazily before finally mentally collecting himself enough to return to the field.

The wind was so strong that we staggered sideways as they walked out onto the field. If the crowd was cheering, I couldn't hear it over the fresh rolls of thunder. The Hufflepuffs were approaching from the opposite side of the field, wearing canary-yellow robes. The Captains walked up to each other and shook hands; Diggory smiled at Wood but Oliver now looked as though he had lockjaw and merely nodded, quite the opposite of his minute of relaxation just moments prior. I saw Madam Hooch's mouth form the words, "Mount Your brooms." I pulled my right foot out of the mud with a squelch and swung it over my Nimbus Two Thousand and One. Madam Hooch put her whistle to her lips and gave it a blast that sounded shrill and distant — we were off.

I rose fast, but my Nimbus was swerving slightly with the wind. I held it as steady as I could and turned, squinting into the rain. Within five minutes we were all soaked to our skin and frozen, hardly able to see my own hand before my face. Every time I received the Quaffle from either Angelina or Katie it felt as if my hand would shatter. My palms down to my fingertips were virtually frozen solid, any impact caused immense pain upon my skin. We were up by twenty points before I threw the Quaffle by the Hufflepuff Keeper, giving us a thirty point lead. I looked up at Harry for just a quick moment, he appeared like he was unable to function. I prayed that he would snap out of it and catch the Snitch and soon. It was getting harder and harder to hold his broom straight. The sky was getting darker, as though night had decided to come early. The rain was growing thicker and the wind stronger if that was even possible.

It was 140 to 100, Gryffindor when I lost all feeling of my body. I'd actually had a pretty decent game, besides the whole positively miserable circumstances. I was leading in points scored with seventy. Swerving by the sole male Hufflepuff Chaser, I threw the Quaffle through the left goal post, eighty points total.

150 to 100, Gryffindor.

With the first flash of lightning came the sound of Madam Hooch's whistle; I could just see the outline of Wood through the thick rain, gesturing us to the ground. The whole team splashed down into the mud.

"I called for time-out!" Wood roared at us. "Come on, under here —"

We huddled at the edge of the field under a large umbrella; Harry took off his glasses and wiped them hurriedly on his robes.

"What's the score?"

"We're fifty points up," said Wood, "but unless we get the Snitch soon, we'll be playing into the night."

"I've got no chance with these on," Harry said exasperatedly, waving his glasses.

At that very moment, Hermione appeared at his shoulder; she was holding her cloak over her head and was, inexplicably, beaming. She and Harry began muttering back and forth about his glasses repelling water or something, I couldn't really hear what they were saying even from only a few feet away. I felt Fred's hands rub up and down my shoulders, a sad attempt to warm me up. My teeth were literally chattering, my entire body trembling from the cold.

"Merlin, I'm sweating out here," Fred joked, wrapping his arm around me and pulling me against him to share body heat. "I'm about ready to take off my shirt, but I think Madam Hooch would call a foul on us for too sexy of a distraction."

I chuckled lightly, my lungs barely able to exhale. Fred, along with George, looked like they'd just dove into the lake with their uniforms on. Their straggly red hair clung to their cheeks like mine did, their lips a fresh shade of blue. I imagined mine must have been the same color.

"You're having a good match," said George, his lower lip trembling uncontrollably. "I guess your whole drowned rat look isn't affecting your game."

"Oh, shut up and try not to get me killed out there," I smirked, punching his arm affectionately. "The Bludgers are practically invisible with the rain and all."

"We're doing our best, Scabbers," he said, referring to me as a drowned rat again as if he was ever so clever. "The Quaffle is a hell of a lot easier to spot than one of those little buggers."

I watched as Harry placed his glasses back on his head, Hermione had apparently fixed his minor disability. Oliver looked as though he could have kissed her.

"Brilliant!" he called hoarsely after her as she disappeared into the crowd. "Okay, team, let's go for it!"

Full of fresh determination, we urged his brooms through the turbulent air. I ducked suddenly, barely avoiding a Bludger, and then I proceeded to shout words I won't repeat at the Twins for missing the Bludger that had nearly struck me across the head right after I had pressed them to keep their eyes pealed for the bloody things. Hufflepuff scored another goal with Angelina countering it with another score only moments after.

There was another clap of thunder, followed immediately by forked lightning. This was getting more and more dangerous. Harry needed to get the Snitch quickly. I turned, intending to head back toward the middle of the field to catch a pass from Kates, but at that moment, another flash of lightning illuminated the stands, and I saw something that distracted me completely, the silhouette of an enormous shaggy black dog, clearly imprinted against the sky, motionless in the topmost, empty row of seats.

My numb hands slipped on the broom handle and my Nimbus dropped a few feet. Shaking my sodden stray hairs out of my eyes, I squinted back into the stands. The dog had vanished. Was my vision from the crystal ball going to come true? No, of course not, I was no Seer. I has just misinterpreted what I had seen and the storm combined with my lack of sleep was just helping my eyes play tricks on me. That was all.

"Freddie," came George's anguished yell from several feet above me, mid-swing at a Bludger. "Get your head back in the game!"

"Mind your own bloody business!" I retorted fiercely, zooming off to intercept the Quaffle from one of the female Hufflepuff Chasers. I caught Harry chasing after the Snitch out of the corner of my eye and I prayed he would be quick to catch it. I clasped the Quaffle in my hand, tossing it to Angelina who swiftly flew off towards the opposing goal posts, but something odd was suddenly happening that prevented me from following after her. An eerie silence was falling across the stadium. The wind, though as strong as ever, was forgetting to roar. It was as though someone had turned off the sound, as though I had gone suddenly deaf — what was going on?

And then a horribly familiar wave of cold swept over me, inside me, just as I became aware of something moving on the field below…

At least a hundred Dementors, their hidden faces pointing up at us, were standing beneath me. It was as though freezing water were rising in my chest, cutting at my insides. And then I heard it again… Someone was screaming, screaming inside my head… a woman… my Mum...

"_Sweetheart, you have to be quiet for Mummy," she whispered fiercely. "We're going to play a game, alright? You're going to hide in here until Mummy comes to find you. You have to stay quiet though, darling, if you make a sound then the game is over and the bad guys win. Understand?"_

_Her voice was shaky and crazed, her hands trembling as she held me close against her and lifted up the floor rug that was attached to a few floorboards. The screams from beyond the door grew louder, bloodcurdling screams that froze my insides solid. I covered my ears and shook my head, tears streaming down my cheeks while I fought the urge to whimper. The doorknob continued to jiggle, my Mum looked back at it fretfully once more. With a swift motion, she pulled her golden locket over her head and placed it around mine. She held her palm against my cheek, looking into my eyes one final time. Her emerald green eyes were haunting, so bright they nearly illuminated the pitch black room. Her face was wet from desperate tears, matching mine. She was so young, so strong, so beautiful._

"_Mummy loves you, Winnie," she cried, pulling me against her to share an embrace._

"_Mum-" I began, but she hushed me instantly._

"_You and May look after each other," she whispered. "Don't come out until it's safe. Promise, Mummy, cross your heart."_

"_Mummy-"_

"_Promise me!" she hissed._

"_Cross my heart," I sniffled, crisscrossing my thumb over my chest._

"_That's my girl," she smiled sadly through her flowing tears, pushing a stray strand of dark hair behind my tiny ear._

_She placed me in the small crawlspace, closing the floorboards over me. The door burst open and for one second, a second that lasted an eternity, it went completely and utterly silent. Clutching May against my heart, I closed my eyes as tight as I possibly could._

I re-opened my eyes, snapping back to reality. I saw everyone rushing towards Harry, who was unconscious on the ground, Dementors sweeping away from the pitch because of a bright, silver light from Dumbledore's wand. I shook my head clear of my thoughts and swiftly flew downwards after my teammates. Fred and George's necks turned to look at me as I landed harshly upon the soft earth. I gasped at the sight of Harry, he must have fallen... I couldn't even guess how far. I covered my mouth as we watched the teachers kneel to his side to tend to our wounded Seeker. George wrapped his arm around me affectionately, pulling me against him. I gripped my fingers around his maroon jacket, clutching it with worry.

"You okay? The Dementors didn't—" started George, looking down at me with a concerned expression.

"No," I interrupted hastily, shaking my head. "No, I'm fine, really. How's Harry?"

"He's going to be alright," said George unconvincingly, more for my benefit than anything. I nodded slowly in reply, my eyes glued on Harry's motionless body.

I saw Angelina holding her face against Fred's shoulder, his hand gently brushing the back of her head. My mind went to Oliver, looking around for our Captain, he was no where near Harry like the rest of us. No, Oliver was standing before Madam Hooch and Diggory. She was explaining to him that Cedric had caught the Snitch and the opposing Captain was offering for a replay. I suddenly grew angry, why wasn't Oliver worried about Harry like everyone else? His well-being was more important than some stupid Quidditch match. My jaw rigid, I turned back and watched Harry be escorted off the field on a stretcher.

"Mr. Potter is going to be tended to by Madam Pomphrey," said McGonagall, addressing the five of us that were in the general area. "He should make a full recovery, not to worry. You can go and see to him as soon as you like."

"Thanks, Professor," said Katie, smiling weakly with gratitude.

The sky seemed to absorb the sullen dispositions of those below and decided to release an even more furious downpour in response. I pulled my hood of my uniform over my head and looked up at Fred and George with a fretful expression. We had just turned to leave and visit Harry when Oliver strode in front of the lot of us, cutting off our path to the castle. He looked despondent but for a completely separate reason.

"It looks like Hufflepuff is going to be able to call this a victory," said Oliver, totally unaware of why we all appeared so depressed. "Diggory caught the Snitch, fair and square. He offered to have a replay, but I'm not going to let him do that. I'm not going to take advantage of his stellar sportsmanship–"

"Wood–" Angelina began.

"Now, I can tell by the looks on all your faces that you're all as distressed about the outcome of this match as I am–"

"Oliver–" Katie interrupted.

"Believe me, no one is more upset than I am," he said sadly, lowering his head and shaking it from side to side. "But we're going to have to take this with a grain of salt and just play flawlessly for the remainder of the season. Now, let's hit the showers so we can fit in a quick strategy meeting before returning to–"

"Are you daft?" I snapped, everyone's eyes widening in surprise at my abrupt interjection. "We're not upset because we lost. We're upset because Harry was nearly killed. You'd realize that if you could think of something besides Quidditch for two bloody seconds, you selfish git!"

My fellow teammates were so taken aback from my outburst that no one spoke, no one moved. All that was heard was a small _uh_ sound that was released from Katie's mouth just after her jaw dropped. No one appeared more surprised than Oliver, himself. His mouth opened and closed several times before he could find the proper words to respond, I could all the while feel George and Fred's eyes searing a whole in the back of my skull.

"McKinnon, may I have a word?" asked Oliver shallowly, narrowing his gaze.

I swiftly tore away from George's arm and strode forward. Oliver took a firm hold of my elbow and pulled out of earshot, leaning in so we were only inches from each other. My face must have appeared murderous.

"How dare you disrespect me in front of my team? I'm still your superior, Winnie," he snapped. "What's gotten into you?"

"What's gotten into _me_? I hissed. "What's gotten into _you_? You're being incredibly self-centered, and your team, Oliver? We're your friends before your inferiors. A team is supposed be on an equal playing field, and you're acting like an egomaniacal prat. You shouldn't be lecturing us about winning and losing. You should be concerned for the well-being of your teammate! Those Dementors did a number on Harry, and he's really hurt. It almost sounds like you're blaming him for what happened. We win as a team, we lose as a team, Wood."

"You're being ridiculous," he spat. "I'm not blaming Harry, I only wish he managed to take care of his little Dementor phobia before–"

"You say one more word, Oliver Wood, and I swear to Merlin that you'll be in worse shape than Harry," I interrupted fiercely. "We're going to see Harry and if you were any kind of real Captain then you would join us."

Without another word, I yanked my arm free of his grip and returned to Ang, Katie, and the Twins. I muttered something like "Let's go," and the foursome followed after me as I stomped towards the Hospital Wing, exchanging shocked glances. Part of me expected Oliver to come with us, but he remained planted in the spot I left him. I caught him shuffling off towards the showers over my shoulder as we came to the top of the hill before Hogwarts.

"Christ, Freddie, what was that all about?" asked Fred as he came up from behind me, an amused grin across his youthful face.

"Nothing, he's just a Quidditch-obsessed git," I mumbled, my eyes glued straight ahead.

"Wood has always been like that and it's never bothered you before," said Fred. "What's changed?"

What had changed? I was dating him, that was what had changed. I expected more from him. I expected him to act like a respectable human being. Was that too much to ask? I think what made me the most upset was the mere fact that I had quite a bit of expectations in this relationship I'd been sharing with Oliver over the last month, and I was scared more than anything that I was just looking for something to make him imperfect. He'd been flawless until this very moment, and I was scared that I was intentionally sabotaging my own relationship with him. However, another part of me was worried that I was falling for this boy way too fast, and I was overlooking his flaws until now. Maybe I needed to open my eyes, maybe I had been blind to his faults, maybe this relationship wasn't meant to last, or maybe I was just being overdramatic.

"I'm just sick of it is all," I frowned.

"Whatever you say," said Fred warily.

–

"Lucky the ground was so soft," said Katie.

"I thought he was dead for sure," said Ron, who had been the first to arrive in the Hospital Wing along with Hermione in toe.

"But he didn't even break his glasses," said Hermione in a shaky voice. "That was the scariest thing I've ever seen in my life."

Harry's eyes snapped open to see the lot of us spattered with mud from head to foot, gathered around his bed. Ron and Hermione were the only outsiders besides the Gryffindor Quidditch team... minus Oliver that is, we all looked as though we'd just climbed out of a swimming pool.

"Harry!" said Fred, who looked extremely white underneath, the mud. "How're you feeling?"

"What happened?" he said, sitting up so suddenly they all gasped.

"You fell off," said Fred. "Must've been — what — fifty feet?"

I clutched a blanket, Madam Pomphrey had supplied each one of us, closer against me. I knew exactly what Harry meant. He wanted to know about the Dementors but didn't know how to ask and really didn't want to know the answer to begin with. He merely accepted Fred's stilted reply.

"We thought you'd died," said Katie, who was shaking under her blanket as well.

Hermione made a small, squeaky noise. Her eyes were extremely bloodshot.

"But the match," said Harry. "What happened? Are we doing a rematch?"

No one said anything. I shivered as I replayed the argument I had shared with Oliver in my head. I had hoped he would redeem himself and surprise us all by meeting us in the Hospital Wing. I was wrong.

"We didn't — _lose_?"

"Diggory got the Snitch," said George, looking over at me. "Just after you fell. He didn't realize what had happened. When he looked back and saw you on the ground, he tried to call it off. Wanted a rematch. But they won fair and square… even Wood admits it."

Everyone but Harry, Ron and Hermione's eyes shot onto me, and I pretended I didn't notice.

"Where is Wood?" said Harry, suddenly realizing he wasn't there.

"Still in the showers," said Fred. "We think he's trying to drown himself."

"Fingers crossed he succeeds," I muttered, earning an odd glare from Angelina.

Harry put his face to his knees, his hands gripping his hair. George grabbed his shoulder and shook it roughly.

"C'mon, Harry, you've never missed the Snitch before," said George gently. "There had to be one time you didn't get it."

I looked over at the gangly redhead whose kind gesture appeared to have worked mildly on our youngest teammate. I'd never realized how blue George's eyes were before, they were rather handsome really. He turned his head slightly to the side and caught my gaze, furrowing his brows with curiosity to why I was staring at him, mouthing "What?" to me. I blushed, smiled awkwardly while shrugging and returned my attention to Harry without a second thought.

"It's not over yet," said Fred. "We lost by a hundred points."

"Right? So if Hufflepuff loses to Ravenclaw and we beat Ravenclaw and Slytherin…" I said, trying to grasp what the conversation was about once again.

"Hufflepuff'll have to lose by at least two hundred points," said George.

"But if they beat Ravenclaw…" said Kates.

"No way, Ravenclaw is too good. But if Slytherin loses against Hufflepuff…" he continued thinking out loud.

"It all depends on the points — a margin of a hundred either way—" said Fred.

Harry lay there, not saying a word. I think he was in shock from losing his first ever Quidditch match. It wasn't a great feeling. I remembered it well.

After ten minutes or so, Madam Pomfrey came over to tell us to leave him in peace.

"We'll come and see you later," Fred told him. "Don't beat yourself up Harry, you're still the best Seeker we've ever had."

"Thanks," said Harry as we turned to leave, trailing mud behind us. "Er— Winnie, could you stay back a minute?"

Oh, um, sure," I said uneasily, looking at Twins who shrugged slightly. "I'll see you lot back in the Common Room later."

The group nodded and departed out the door, receiving a disapproving glare from Madam Pomphrey because of the mud stains. Ron and Hermione (who attained no mud upon their shoes) ran to retrieve Harry some sweets from dinner while I commandeered Hermione's bedside seat in the meantime. Harry cleared this throat and adjusted his glasses for several minutes while I waited for him to ask me the question I knew he was going to ask me the moment he requested me to wait behind with him.

"Um, Winnie, did er—" he started uncomfortably, scratching the back of his undoubtedly sore neck.

"Yeah, Harry, it happened to me again too," I replied, lessening his awkwardness by finishing his inquisition. "The Dementors had the same effect on me as last time, like on the Express."

"It was so much worse this time," Harry went on, more confidently this time. "I—I could actually hear my Mum's voice this time. It was perfectly clear. She was begging Voldemort (I flinched) to spare my life, Winnie."

"I can hear my Mum too. I can hear everyone, everything," I replied. "I can even see the last moments before— well, you know..."

"It's terrible, isn't it?" said Harry with an upward inflection.

"Yeah, it is," I replied solemnly. "They say to just keep thinking happy thoughts until it's over, but that's easier said than done if you ask me. Half the time they sneak up on you and you're so surprised that you don't have time to think of anything let alone something specific."

"Yeah," Harry grunted.

"I'm sorry, Harry," I said bluntly.

"For what?"

"What you went through must have been much worse than what I did, and I'm sorry you have to relive it this way," I frowned, thinking of how difficult his childhood must have been not knowing the truth. "Those things— those monsters really mess with your psyche."

I felt bad that Harry grew-up believing his parents had been killed in a car crash. He was left still trying to deal with the reality of their murders and it was even more difficult to come to terms with at this age than at the age I had to face it. It's almost easier to face life's greatest challenges when you don't understand them so you can't understand them.

"You were older than I was when... what happened to your mum... er— happened," Harry retorted. "You surely recall what occurred during your last moments together than I do with my Mum. If anyone should be sympathized it should be you—"

"I don't need your sympathy," I said quickly, coming off unintentionally a bit nasty. "Er— that came out wrong, sorry... I just try not to dwell on what happened back then. It was a long time ago, and I barely think about it if I can help it. That's why those bleeding Dementors are so dreadful... they make it so I can't help but remember it."

It was a lie. I thought about it all the time. I was always trying to piece together the final scene that my Mum and I shared, but the missing pieces never seemed to fit. It may sound sick, but a small part of me enjoyed the Dementors' power to bring back my Mum's memory into my mind, a memory I didn't think I had anymore. Maybe with a couple more encounters I would have a complete memory.

"I understand," said Harry, nodding slowly. "You're one of the few people I feel comfortable talking with about my parents because... well, you can empathize. Thanks, Winnie."

"Don't mention it, mate," I smirked. "I'm always here when you need to talk about being an orphan."

Harry scoffed at my ever twisted sense of humor and I simply chuckled lightly. We almost didn't hear the door click open. I didn't turn to see who it was. I knew it would undoubtedly be Ron and Hermione, returning quickly with Harry's treats. But when Harry's lips curled into a feeble smile that was unfamiliar to welcome his two best friends, I turned to see who had entered the room. My jaw slacked slightly. It was Oliver, holding a brown paper bag in one hand.

"Alright there, Harry?" asked Oliver.

"Yeah, thanks," said Harry sadly while Oliver slowly approached his bedside, my eyes following him. "Listen, Wood, I'm really sorry—"

"Don't be, Harry," he interrupted, grinning kindly and closing his eyes for a second. "We win as a team, we lose as a team."

His golden eyes lingered onto me, bringing a brief smile to my face.

"Sorry, I took so long," Oliver continued, extending his arm holding the brown paper bag. "I stopped by my room and grabbed some chocolate frogs. I thought they might make you feel better."

I couldn't believe my eyes. He'd redeemed himself. Maybe he wasn't such a selfish, egomaniacal, Quidditch-obsessed git. Maybe, just maybe, this relationship we had could last after all.

–

_**THANK YOU ALL SO MUCH FOR REVIEWING! I LOVE YOU :)**_

_**A/N: **__This was officially the longest chapter I have ever written out of EVERY fic I have ever written. I'm sure you're wondering how I wrote like over 9,000 words and still managed to say absolutely nothing. Longest filler chapter of all time, right? I know I used a lot from the book in this chapter, but I felt it necessary. Please don't complain about that fact. I get so annoyed when people bitch about that. This may not seem like it, but it took FOR-BLOODY-EVER to write. I kept adding and deleting stuff, and I hate like fifty percent of the damn thing still. However, I am to the point that I am too lazy to edit the formatting anymore, and I have gone too long without updating. I did laugh writing this, though, I don't know why. I will give myself a bit of credit in the comedy department because I thought I did a decent comedic job for once. What do you think?_

_**PS:**__ I leave for England in 3 weeks! YES! I'm going to shoot for finishing Part I of this fic before I leave because I'm moderately close to the end. In fact, I am way closer than I expected to be honest. I downloaded all the books on my laptop as an outline, and I'm around the Firebolt part and knowing how much I put into each chapter I can't see this being more than 3 chapters which makes me feel really shitty because it would make my story a whopping 12 chapters long. I know I average like 6000 words or more a chapter but still... that seems really short. Ugh. Does that bother anyone?_

_**PSS: **__Sorry for any spelling or grammatical errors. I am up really early, and my brain cannot function before 11:00 A.M. I'll fix it later, cross my heart... get it? ;)_

_**Questions for you: **__Are you lot Team Oliver or Team George? I am Team George all the way, but I am willing to make some alterations if enough people are disliking Freddie and George. What would you like to see happen before Part I is over? How do you want Fred and (especially) George to react to the news of Winnie and Oliver's relationship? Is Oliver and Freddie's relationship stilted and moving too fast? I think I'm doing a shitty job. You tell me._

_**Coming Soon:**__ Freddie and Oliver grow closer, the trio passes on the Marauders' Map, Fred grows suspicious, Winnie has another vision that terrifies more than just her, the secret is out and Freddie has to deal with the consequences, Alicia ruins everything, Oliver makes an offer Winnie suddenly can't refuse, chaos and hilarity undoubtedly ensues..._

_I'll be more inspired to update when I reach __**175 reviews**__ :) _


	11. Chapter 11: The Marauder's Map

_**Chapter Eleven**_

_The Marauder's Map_

–

_Friends are relatives you make yourself._

–

The fact that Ravenclaw flattened Hufflepuff in their Quidditch match at the end of November, brought Gryffindors' mood into a definite upturn. We weren't out of the running after all, although we could not afford to lose another match. Oliver became repossessed of his manic energy, and worked us as hard as ever in the chilly haze of rain that persisted into December. Neither I nor Harry saw no hint of a Dementor within the grounds. Dumbledore's anger seemed to be keeping them at their stations at the entrances.

Two weeks before the end of the term, the sky lightened suddenly to a dazzling, opaline white and the muddy grounds were revealed one morning covered in glittering frost. Inside the castle, there was a buzz of Christmas in the air. Professor Flitwick, the Charms teacher, had already decorated his classroom with shimmering lights that turned out to be real, fluttering fairies. Molly insisted Harry join us all for Christmas, but he refused to impose. Therefore, Ron opted to stay behind, much to Molls' distaste. He told Harry it was because he didn't want to spend 2 weeks with Percy, and for a moment I considered staying back with him. Hermione was remaining at Hogwarts for the break as well undoubtedly to keep Harry company too.

However, I knew Oliver would be back in Locksley with his parents, and I would have no real reason to stay at school over break. Things had been going well with Wood. He hadn't pulled another stunt like at the Hufflepuff match, and I had toned down my criticisms for the most parts. We kept our relationship a secret the same as before, no one was any the wiser, besides Angelina of course. Sneaking around to see each other was sort of exciting in the beginning but after a few weeks it became a rather large hassle. We resorted to using the excuse of him tutoring me in Herbology to avoid making blatantly false excuses. Though it wasn't always a lie. I still was rubbish in the subject, and he was fantastic in it.

"Now, when a Fire Fern is in bloom, what color are its flames?" asked Oliver, leaning in close to the pages of my Herbology book.

"Er– that would be purple... no– pink... yeah, pink," I said with absolutely no confidence.

"Close, it was blue," said Oliver dispassionately, pointing to the answer in my Herbology book.

I sighed heavily, propping my chin up on my closed fist. He'd been trying to teach me Herbology for three hours and the only thing that I'd managed to learn was that you should never over-water a Fire Fern, and Oliver had six specs of gold in his right eye and seven in his left. Madam Prince was growing anxious to close the library for the night, judging by her constant groans whenever she passed by us while on her way returning books to their proper slots.

"Can we just call it a night already?" I frowned, rubbing my eyes. "I'm a lost cause."

"You're not a lost cause. You just need to concentrate harder," he suggested compassionately, "and I know it's difficult because you're not exactly all that enthused about the subject of Herbology."

"Yeah, I know," I sighed regretfully. "I'm thankful you're trying to help me all the same."

"Don't mention it," he smiled sweetly, gently placing his hand atop mine upon the wooden tabletop. I pulled my hand away and held it on my lap so quickly that it must have looked like a pale blur to the naked eye. Oliver was taken aback, his eyes widening. My cheeks burned red, looking about to see if anyone had seen him reach for my hand. No one had, we were utterly and completely alone.

"Bloody hell, Winnie," Oliver whispered fiercely. "What was that all about?"

"We've talked about this before, Ollie," I hissed. "If anyone were to see–"

"Let them see," he said indignantly. "I'm so sick of sneaking about to see you I could scream."

"You best not do that," I smirked. "We are in the library after all–"

"I'm serious, Winnie," he frowned. "I want to be able to tell people you're my girlfriend, be able to actually _look_ at you longer than two bleeding seconds in public without you having a panic attack."

"I'd like that too, believe me," I sighed, "more than anything, but that isn't possible yet. What we have now is going so well... I don't want to muck it up by giving anyone else an open opportunity to get involved."

Things had been going so well with Oliver over the last 3 or so months that it was almost unbelievable. I was scared, no terrified, that if anything were to dramatically change in our relationship that our pedestal of perfection would come crashing down before my very eyes. I couldn't bring myself to publicize our relationship. It wasn't just the risk of its destruction anymore, I don't really know what it is. However, something very powerful, something stronger than I, was preventing me from telling anyone (especially the twins) about our romantic status.

"You do know that the longer you decide to hide this from Fred and George, the more furious they will be when you finally do tell them," said Oliver, narrowing his glare. "And god forbid, Winnie, what if they found out before you choose to tell them yourself?"

"That won't happen if you keep your hands to yourself in public," I replied humorously, biting the inside of my cheek.

"Fine, whatever," he frowned. "I'm willing to continue this little charade as long as you want, but I just can't see this ending well with them."

"Lucky I'm the one with the O in Divination," I teased, placing my finger tips to my temples as if I was going to make a prediction. "and I foresee everything working out perfectly fine."

It was a total lie.

"Well, I'm the one with an O in Potions," he said rolling his eyes, "and I think this is a recipe for disaster."

"You know, I think I'm rubbing off on you," I smiled slyly. "Your sense of humor is really improving."

We both broke out into a quiet fit of laughter, aware the Madam Prince would be on the prowl to chastise us for any slight disruption. Our laughter immediately came to a halt when the front doors opened several yards before us, revealing Fred and George who appeared to be on a mission. Once their eyes lingered onto me, their infamous lopsided grins spread across their faces as they hurried towards Oliver and I in the corner of the library. They received a threatening look from Madam Prince that made them take seats they had no intention of taking on the other side of the table. They sat down so fiercely that they nearly knocked all of our books onto the floor when they hit the table with their gangly knees.

"We've been looking all over for you," said George anxiously. "Hey there, Wood."

Oliver smiled weakly and nodded in reply, but George had already forgotten he had exchanged a pleasantry with the handsome Quidditch Captain and returned his attention to me.

"I told you I was going to be in the library so Wood could help me study for Herbology," I said quietly. "Weren't you listening?"

"We never have before," said Fred, shrugging. "What makes you think today would be any different?"

"Really, Freddie, you expect much too much from us," he smiled. "I mean, actually listening when you open that big gob of yours? Be serious."

"Oh, shut it," I smirked, rolling my eyes. "What's so urgent that you had to come searching for me then?"

Both twins' eyes slowly lingered onto Oliver, who shifted awkwardly in his seat. It was obvious whatever they needed to share with me was not allowed to be said in front of Oliver. Wood was not an idiot, he picked up on what the twins were implying instantly. He smiled uneasily, stood up and began to collect his books. I opened my mouth to object to his abrupt departure, but I forced myself to slam my mouth shut. It would look suspicious if I opposed being alone with my two best friends for an exchange of Oliver Wood's company as well.

"Er– It's getting late, and I should probably hit the hay," he smiled kindly. "I don't want to be off my game for practice tomorrow. Goodnight, you lot."

"Same to you, Wood," the pair said in unison, to set on whatever they had to tell me to realize I didn't repeat their sentiment to the Gryffindor Keeper.

"Thanks again for the help, Oliver," I said as he turned to leave.

"Don't mention it, McKinnon," he replied, smiling whimsically before departing out the door to leave us alone.

The twins leaned in as close as possible, I opted to remain in my normal sitting position. My eyes followed Oliver out the door before gradually making their way back onto the pair of them.

"So what's this all about, now that you interrupted my study session?" I said disdainfully.

"Don't try and act like you're disappointed," said George. "We both know we saved you from any additional boredom at the expense of Oliver Wood."

I rolled my eyes as Fred started his spew.

"We have an idea, but we thought it was only fair to ask your permission before we do it," said Fred, "considering it's one-third yours after all."

"Though it really doesn't matter if you do say no," said George, "We still hold a two-thirds majority either way."

"Are you two going to keep rambling on all night or actually get to the point?" I frowned. "What is this thing that I own a third of?"

"The Marauder's Map," they said in synch, sliding the Map across the table towards me for good measure.

"We want to give it to Harry for a sort of Christmas present, I suppose," said Fred.

"He's been left out of Hogsmeade all term, and if he had access to the Map then he'd be able to visit there before our holiday break," said George. "The three of us have it memorized anyhow. We know that not being able to know where everyone is at every second of every day will be a significant blow to our pranking abilities, but I think we've been in dire need to go back to our roots for a long while anyway."

"So, are you alright with giving it to him?" asked Fred.

"Yeah," I said without a moment's hesitation. "I think it's a brilliant idea. I'm surprised you two came up with it, in fact."

"You hear this, Fred?" George teased. "First, she's giving us too much credit and now she's giving us too little. You'd think she'd know us better than that after almost sixteen years."

–

Professor Lupin's class was easily our favorite, no competition. It was everyone's favorite class, really. He managed to find the perfect median between teaching through lectures and hands-on. He brought in loads of examples and always gave demonstrations. It also didn't hurt that we had the class with the Ravenclaws, whom were my favorite house to share classes with. Hufflepuff was a close second, but Ravenclaw was always good because they typically had the answers to all the questions. Napping in class was easy to do when Ravenclaws were involved. Today, Fred, George and I were anxious to leave Lupin's class for once because we planned on finding Harry to deliver the Marauder's Map to him. My eyes continued to wander to Lee's watch on his right wrist to my left. I rested my chin on my closed fist, trying to pay attention to our lesson and failing miserably.

"Very good, Ms. Bell," said Professor Lupin, nodding pleasantly. "The Augurey is a sort of Phoenix. The Augurey is a beautiful yet mournful-looking bird with long greenish-black colored feathers. They nest in brambles and thorns, flying only in the heaviest of rain storms. But their physical characteristics are not what makes the birds so peculiar. The Augurey is referred to as "The bird of death." As legend goes the bird's distinct cry is to be known as a death omen. It is utterly silent throughout every aspect of its life, but releases a bloodcurdling shriek whenever a death is to occur."

I'd heard of an Augurey before, so my ears perked up slightly, my eyes still glazed over.

"Now, can anyone tell me the main difference between a Phoenix and an Augurey?" asked Lupin, clasping his hands together and looking around the room for any raised hands. There were only a couple, both Ravenclaws. "Ah, thank you, Ms. Madeleine Crouch, please indulge us."

I lethargically turned to my right to the table next to Lee and I to peer over at the pretty, young Ravenclaw. She had much better posture than I, and I subconsciously sat up straight in response. Her hair was naturally much wavier than mine, but her dark brown locks still appeared much more neat than my own. I shoved a stray strand of my black hair behind my ear and began biting my thumbnail. I remembered Fred or George saying they thought she was pretty a year or two ago. My mind started to wander, wondering how much effort she put into her appearance compared to me. Compared to me, brushing your hair was a lot, but she just appeared to be naturally pretty. I'd never pondered on whether or not I was like that, probably not.

"The average Phoenix sheds tears that have the power to heal any ailment, practically bringing back the dead," Maddy explained. "However, the Augurey attains quite the opposite ability. Its tears are considered to be the most deadly poison-like substance on the face of the earth. The smallest drop has the power to kill its victim within seconds."

"Exceptional, Ms. Crouch," Professor Lupin beamed. "Five points to Ravenclaw."

Maddy's partner, Dylan, smiled approvingly at her. I noticed Lee had looked over at their table, briefly locking eyes with the second Ravenclaw. She blushed and looked away quickly, whispering fiercely to Maddy. I smirked at the pair of them, nudging Lee in the arm and sending him an inquisitive glare. He simply smiled slyly, shrugged innocently, and whispered something about being a stud to which I giggled in reply.

The bell rang seconds later, I collected my things and turned around to Fred and George who were sitting together at the table directly behind Lee and I. I held the Marauder's Map in my hand and slapped it down on their desk, smiling deviously.

"You lot ready to make Harry's day?" I grinned.

"Day?" Fred scoffed, taking the map from me. "Try entire life."

"He's going t—" George started.

"Hi Fred, Hi _George_," Alicia Spinnet said, striding elegantly up beside me and pretending I was a ghost. No, I take that back. If I was a ghost I think she would have at least acknowledged my presence.

"Er— Hi, Leesh," said George, looking at her uneasily.

"Fred, George, I'm scared," I said, a fake, melodramatic expression across my face. "I think I've caught the Vanishing Disease."

"Who said that?" Fred gasped humorously.

"Oh my god," George said frantically, looking about in a desperate rage. "Fred, where's Winnie? She was here just a moment ago—"

"She's right there— oh, I get it— you two are hilarious," Alicia started dumbly, pointing her thumb at me initially, catching herself and forcing the fakest laugh I'd ever heard. "Hi, Winnie, were you there the whole time?"

"No, I learned how to apparate two years early, and then I found out how to do it on the grounds," I said sarcastically, as she raised her eyebrows at me. "I'm joking, Leesh, it's a joke."

"Oh, I thought jokes were supposed to be funny," she said curtly. "Sorry, my mistake."

Fred snorted so loud that he had to turn his head away and bury his face in the crook of his elbow. I shot him the nastiest glare I could muster. George, on the other hand, merely eyed Alicia as if he were anxious for her to leave.

"Sorry, sorry," Fred choked out. "Excuse me for a second. Oi, Ang!"

Fred darted off to Angelina and Katie's table, diagonal to ours, undoubtedly to tell them the ever so hilarious story of the scene he had just witnessed... and to avoid being potentially murdered by me.

"So what brings you to our humble abode, Alicia?" asked George, motioning towards their table.

"Well, I've been struggling in Muggle Studies," she pouted, swinging her hips from side to side and clutching her books against her chest. "I was hoping that maybe you could tutor me..."

Both mine and George's eyebrows rose to the ceiling.

"Um— I'm sort of swamped with Quidditch and other homework lately, Leesh," he said, lying through his teeth. "Besides, I'm not even that great in Muggle Studies."

That was a complete fib. He and Fred, both were brilliant in Muggle Studies. It was by far their best class. Alicia's smile instantly faded and George obviously began to feel bad.

"But— um, I have an idea," he began again as Alicia's smile returned to full mass. "Oi, Mads, come 'ere for a quick second, would you?"

Alicia kept looking from George to Maddy and back again, confused at what he was up to. I, however, knew exactly what he was doing, and I thought it was brilliant. Maddy Crouch nodded, finished shoving her last book in her messenger bag and casually walked over to us. She smiled pleasantly, wondering what we needed her for.

"What's up, George?" she asked.

"Alicia, here, is really having a hard time in Muggle Studies," he explained, smiling in a sort of pathetically cute way, "and seeing as you're in the class and pretty much the smartest person we know..."

"Sure, no problem," she shrugged. "I'll tutor you, Alicia."

"There," George said, clasping his hands together with relief, "problem solved."

Alicia's jaw dropped slightly, but she swallowed hard to close it as quickly as it had opened. She forced an extremely broad smile and thanked Maddy and George several times in a sort of theatrical kind of way. She made the three of us feel oddly uncomfortably, like she was about to snap and serial murder us or something.

"Well, I better go, I have loads of packing to do and such," said Alicia in an extremely high-pitched voice before she disappeared out the door. "Bye, George."

"Uh— see ya, Alicia," he said with a confused upward inflection.

As soon as we knew she wasn't coming back and was surely out of earshot, George asked the question I was thinking. I don't think she realized that she'd forgotten to make plans to study with Maddy, not like she really intended to in the first place.

"What the bloody hell was that all about?"

"I don't really have to tutor her," asked Maddy, wiser than most. "You just wanted to get out of having to spend time with her, right?"

"Yeah, Mads, that's exactly what he was doing," I nodded. "It was extremely rude by the way, maybe she really wanted you to help her. You're her friend and—"

"Um, were you _really_ not here when she was berating you 2 minutes ago?" George snapped. "Why are you sticking up for her?"

"She's probably just having a bad day, and you know she's never really been quick to understand our sense of humor," I objected. "I mean, she's still my friend, George."

"She's certainly an odd sort of friend then," said Maddy, biting the inside of her cheek.

"What's that supposed to mean?" I asked curiously.

"Well, Dylan told me just the other day that Alicia was going on and on about how violent you were in their Ancient Ruins class," said Maddy, nodding towards her source and best friend. "She was telling everyone how you just love to beat up Graham Montague just because he has a little crush on you, made him seem like a puppy dog or something, she did. Then she told anyone who would listen –which was no one, mind you– that she was surprised anyone could have even the slightest hint of romantic feelings for you because you act so much like a boy. I guess quite a few people told her to shut her bleeding mouth, so no worries there."

"Oh," was all that managed to come out of my mouth.

"If it makes you feel any better, Winnie, I think you're loads prettier than her," said Maddy, smiling helplessly, "inside and out. Alicia is a foul, rotten codger, and she's just jealous. She's jealous because you're best friends with the boy she fancies and everyone knows it. She stares at him like he's made out of bloody diamonds or something. She's completely mental, no offense, George."

"Thanks," I said, unable to look at her. She placed an affectionate hand on my shoulder for support.

"I'm sorry I had to be the one to tell you," she frowned, genuinely apologetic, "but I figure it would be better to stab you in the front than the back."

"Yeah, I appreciate it, Mads, really," I replied, faking a smile that lasted about one second.

Maddy nodded curtly to George and sent me a fleeting smile before following her friend Dylan out the door. I stood, shell shocked, I knew George didn't know what to say to me. He just tried to gauge my reaction, but my blank expression didn't help. I just kept thinking, had Alicia really resorted to this? I guess she had been sort of distant to me the past couple months, avoiding conversation and such. However, she'd never been downright mean. I suppose I'd been so wrapped up with sneaking around with Oliver that I hadn't really noticed much of anything really. I would have never expected her to say such nasty things about me, especially not behind my back. Alicia was admittedly not my best friend, but she was certainly up there. I felt like someone had punched me in the stomach, it hurt. I abruptly jerked my head up to lock eyes with a despondent-looking George.

"George, promise me that you'll never mention this again," I said quickly.

"What?" he hissed.

"I don't want you mentioning this to anyone, especially not Fred," I pleaded. "I just want to pretend this never happened."

"Absolutely not," he insisted. "You can't ask that of me. She insulted you, and I'm bloody well going to say something to her—"

"No, you're not," I objected. "What she said was humiliating, and I don't want it brought up again."

"So you're just going to keep on smiling and laughing with the mangy minger and—"

"Of course not," I snapped. "I'm just going to avoid her and be aware of her less than honorable intentions."

"You're being way too lax about this," George whispered furiously, looking over at Fred, Ang, and Katie to make sure they weren't listening. "I swear to Merlin if she were a bloke, I'd pound the bleeding bogies out—"

"This is my issue, so let me handle it," I persisted.

"And you're my—"

"Your what, George?" I spat. "I'm your what?"

"All I'm saying is..." he began again, taking a deep breath and slowing his speech. "You have no right to criticize me for getting upset when someone says something like that about you when you, yourself, tear Montague apart if he so much as looks at Fred or I the wrong way. And you're my best friend, that's what you are."

I snorted a laugh and George, unable to ever stop himself from joining in on a laugh no matter the circumstances, smiled apprehensively and raised his eyebrows.

"What?"

"You do realize that you just compared Alicia Spinnet to Graham Montague, don't you?" I laughed lightly.

"I think you just solved our little predicament," said George, chuckling to himself.

"How's that?" I inquired.

"We'll just set Alicia up with Montague," he grinned wickedly, "problem solved."

"Well, you're just Mr. Problem Solver today," I teased.

"I don't know who I would feel worse for in that relationship," said George, pointing his index finger to his chin, pretending to be deep in thought. "Oh, Merlin, I just realized something!"

"What?"

"You wanted me to be her bloody boyfriend," he gasped. "Can you imagine how terrible that would have been?"

"What are you talking about?" I smirked, crossing my arms over my chest. "She actually likes you."

"The feeling is definitely not mutual, and she's about to know it—"

"George—" I warned.

"I'm only joking," he sighed, frowning. "I won't say anything but if this happens again then all bets are off. I won't slug her, but you can bet I'll ring Ginny in to do my dirty work. I wouldn't even have to convince her. She's probably deck her before I could even suggest it."

"Alright," I said quietly.

"That's settled," he grinned, tugging my left pigtail affectionately, "and just so you know, Maddy's right. You are loads prettier than that ugly bint, inside and out. I mean, I figure it has to be true," he shrugged, beginning to suck any sentiment out of the comment. "Maddy _was_ the one who said it, and she's a Ravenclaw, the smartest one at that."

"Gee, thanks, George," I smirked, rolling my eyes.

"But for the record, I'd agree with that even if it was Marcus Flint who said it," he said gently, "and he's a Slytherin, the stupidest one at that."

I smiled thankfully, realizing how lucky I was to have him as my best friend.

–

The twins and I finally set off to find Harry to give him the gift of a lifetime. We hid behind the humpbacked, one-eyed stone witch statue for nearly twenty minutes before we found him halfway along the third-floor corridor.

"Psst — Harry!" Fred hissed.

Harry turned, to see us peering out at him, wicked grins across our faces.

"What are you doing?" said Harry curiously.

"We've come to give you a bit of festive cheer," said Fred, with a mysterious wink. "Come in here…"

He nodded toward an empty classroom to the left of the one-eyed statue. Harry followed the three of us inside. George closed the door quietly and then turned, beaming, to look at Harry beside me.

"Early Christmas present for you, Harry," he said.

Fred pulled the Map from inside his cloak with a flourish and laid it on one of the desks. Harry obviously suspected it to be one of our jokes, so he stared at it.

"What's that supposed to be?" he asked warily, stepping from one foot to the other.

"This, Harry, is the secret of our success," I replied, patting the parchment fondly.

"It's a wrench, giving it to you," said Fred, "but we decided recently, your need's greater than ours. It was a landslide vote to hand it over, honestly. Freddie, here, put up a fight at first, but George and I talked her into it–"

"I most certainly did not, Fred Weasley, you take that back," I snapped, placing my hands on my hips. "He's only joking, Harry, I was on board from the beginning."

"Anyway.... we know it by heart," said George, ignoring our side argument. "We bequeath it to you. We don't really need it anymore."

"And what do I need with a bit of old parchment?" said Harry.

"A bit of old parchment!" said Fred, closing his eyes with a grimace as though Harry had mortally offended him. "Explain, Freddie."

"Well… when we were in our first year, Harry — young, carefree, and innocent—"

Harry snorted. He doubted whether Fred, George, and I had ever been innocent. He was right, we never have been.

" —well, more innocent than we are now — we got into a spot of bother with Filch," said George.

"We let off a Dungbomb in the corridor and it upset him for some reason—" I continued.

"So he hauled us off to his office and started threatening us with the usual—" said Fred.

"—detention—" we said in unison.

"—disembowelment—" we said together again. Harry was apparently impressed by our ability to speak in synch, but we were unfazed. "—decapitation—"

"—and we couldn't help noticing a drawer in one of his filing cabinets marked _Confiscated and Highly Dangerous_," said George.

"Don't tell me —" said Harry, starting to grin.

"Well, what would you've done?" said Fred. "Freddie and George caused a diversion by dropping a couple more Dungbombs, I whipped the drawer open, and grabbed — _this_."

"It's not as bad as it sounds, you know," said George. "We don't reckon Filch ever found out how to work it. He probably suspected what it was, though, or he wouldn't have confiscated it."

"And you know how to work it?" asked Harry.

"Oh yes," said Fred, smirking. "This little beauty's taught us more than all the teachers in this school."

"You're winding me up," said Harry, looking at the ragged old bit of parchment that understandably deceived him.

"Oh, are we?" said George. "Freddie, if you please..."

"My pleasure," I grinned.

I took out my wand, touched the parchment lightly, and said, "_I solemnly swear that I am up to no good_."

And at once, thin ink lines that we had seen thousands of times before began to spread like a spider's web from the point that my wand had touched. They joined each other, they crisscrossed, they fanned into every corner of the parchment; then words began to blossom across the top, great, curly green words, that proclaimed:

_Messrs. Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot, and Prongs_

_Purveyors of Aids to Magical Mischief-Makers are proud to present _

_THE MARAUDER'S MAP _

The map showed every detail of the Hogwarts castle and grounds. But the truly remarkable thing that impressed Harry were the tiny ink dots moving around it, each labeled with a name in minuscule writing. Astounded, he bent over it. A labeled dot in the top left corner showed that Professor Dumbledore was pacing his study; the caretaker's cat, Mrs. Norris, was prowling the second floor; and Peeves the Poltergeist was currently bouncing around the trophy room. And as Harry's eyes traveled up and down the familiar corridors, he noticed exactly the reason we were giving him the map to begin with.

This map showed a set of passages only a handful of people had ever entered. And many of them seemed to lead—

"Right into Hogsmeade," said Fred, tracing one of them with his finger. "There are seven in all. Now, Filch knows about these four" — he pointed them out — "but we're sure we're the only ones who know about _these_. Don't bother with the one behind the mirror on the fourth floor. We used it until last winter, but it's caved in — completely blocked. And we don't reckon anyone's ever used this one, because the Whomping Willow's planted right over the entrance. But this one here, this one leads right into the cellar of Honeydukes. We've used it loads of times. And as you might've noticed, the entrance is right outside this room, through that one-eyed old crone's hump."

"Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot, and Prongs," sighed George dreamily, patting the heading of the map. "We owe them so much."

"Noble men, working tirelessly to help a new generation of lawbreakers," I said solemnly.

"Right," said Fred briskly. "Don't forget to wipe it after you've used it—"

"—or anyone can read it," George said warningly.

"Just tap it again and say, 'Mischief managed!' And it'll go blank," I explained, demonstrating myself.

"So, young Harry," said Fred, in an uncanny impersonation of Percy, "mind you behave yourself."

"Enjoy Hogsmeade," said Fred, George, and I simultaneously, all of us winking at him.

We left the room, feeling extremely satisfied with ourselves. Harry most likely thought us to be satisfied just because we had delivered the map to him like we had planned, but little did he know that we had more than just present distributions planned for this particular afternoon. No, we each had our pockets stuffed full of Dungbombs that were just dying to be set off.

–

"You know, I have to admit that there is just something about distributing illegal contraband to minors that just makes me feel all warm and fuzzy inside," I joked, hugging myself.

"I know what you mean," Fred smiled. "Illicit activities always make me feel like I'm doing something to assist the greater good."

George chuckled at us as he set down the first of several of our Dungbombs. Fred and I followed suit, decorating the halls with smelly explosions to celebrate the end of term. Dungbombs were one of my favorite items we used in our pranks. They were just so effective.

"Oh, did you two hear the bad news about Christmas?" asked George, "Ron's just told me."

"If this is another one of your attempts to get a better present out of me then you can ruddy well sod off," I smirked. "Telling me you had Spattergroit and only have a week to live didn't work the last time you tried it and it certainly won't work now."

"No," said George, narrowing his glare bitterly. "Apparently, Penelope Clearwater is joining us for Christmas dinner."

"If this is a joke this is the most unfunny joke I've ever heard," I frowned.

"I wish it was a joke," said George, shaking his head. "I'm starting to think Ron has the right idea about staying behind."

–

The snow reached unprecedented heights the morning the Express was scheduled to take us home for our holiday break. I'd always loved winter at Hogwarts. No words could do the grounds justice for the level of sheer beauty it exhumed. I liked to get up early, before anyone else, the morning after a large snowstorm just so I could be the first to make tracks through the perfectly untouched blanket of white snow. I continued my tradition the morning we were to leave for London.

I pulled my thick, lengthy side-braid through the neck hole of my plaid, gray and navy peacoat. I knew it was going to be exceptionally cold after the powerful storm the previous night, especially because it was six in the morning. I pulled on my gray mittens and matching wool cap as quietly as humanly possibly, determined to avoid waking the other girls in the room. I'd actually packed up the night before and had gotten ready for our return early for once. I'd surprised myself. Closing the door delicately behind me, holding my boots in hand, I slipped down the stairs in search of May to join me outside, who I could typically find snoozing by the fire beside Crookshanks in the early morning hours.

I really didn't approve of her spending so much time with Hermione's devil-cat. I couldn't stand the flattened-faced feline. He was always hissing and spitting at someone or something. I could hardly blame Ron for hating the bloody thing. I mean, it did want to eat his rat. May never took a liking to Scabbers, but she never tried to murder him. She basically lived her life pretending he didn't exist. I'd been noticing Ron petting May in his spare time more and more lately, probably because he realized how lucky he was to not have to live in the same house with a cat like Crookshanks.

I tiptoed down the stone staircase, glad I had chosen to put my boots on once I'd reached the common room to prevent any additional noise. The only sound that was audible downstairs was the gentle crackling of the welcoming fire. I decided to slip on my worn gray boots while sitting on the last step before finding May. I pulled the snug, leather boots over my torn jeans and stood up, my breath suddenly caught in my throat because apparently I wasn't alone as I previously anticipated. A fully dressed Oliver Wood was leaning casually against the corner of the ancient sofa, holding May in his arms.

"Just who I was looking for," I smiled coyly, striding forward.

"Good morning to you too," said Oliver, one side of his lips curling into a pleasant grin.

"I was talking to my cat," I teased, lifting May from Oliver's arms and into my own.

Wood's smile fell momentarily before I blindsided him with a quick yet tender kiss on the lips.

"Only joking," I smirked, hooding my eyelids. "What are you doing up this early, fitting in one last practice before heading home?"

"No, thank you very much. It snowed last night, and I figured you'd go out for your usual morning stroll in response to that," he explained. "I wanted to see if I could join... and give you your Christmas present."

"I told you not to get me anything, Ollie, and I meant it," I frowned genuinely, "You know how much I hate those cliché boyfriend-girlfriend Christmas gifts."

"You got me _Quidditch Through the Ages, Volume II_," he objected. "What do you call that?"

"It was something one of your friends would have bought you," I sighed. "It wasn't anything special."

"It was special to me," he replied.

"Oh, don't go all mushy-gushy on me," I frowned. "You know how much I despise it when you do that."

"Whatever you say but, what I bought you isn't much," he shrugged. "I knew if I got you jewelry or something that you'd make me return it, so I decided upon something you would actually use."

"Ollie—"

"Quit arguing," he interrupted. "It's nothing, honestly. It wasn't even expense or anything, so don't throw a fit. I knew you would if I tried to spend a lot of money on you."

Before I could debate any further, Wood pulled out a perfectly square box, wrapped in a pristine green wrapping paper and a shiny green bow. I dropped May to the floor and reluctantly accepted the gift. I looked up at him and he nodded for me to open the box. I smiled feebly and pulled back the string that easily accessed the package. I pulled back the red tissue paper and pulled out the gray material inside.

"I love it," I smiled. "Thank you."

"Welcome," he grinned, pleased I liked it.

It was a Chudley Canons sweatshirt, a female's Chudley Canons sweatshirt. It was my size and he had personalized it by printing my last name and my number 5 on the back in maroon. It was simple, but it was perfect. It wasn't a silly, frivolous gift like I had expected from him. He had put himself in this present and it meant all the more to me. I propelled myself forward and wrapped my arms around his neck, hugging him tight.

"Happy Christmas, McKinnon," he whispered in my ear.

"Happy Christmas, Wood."

–

"George Fabian Weasley, I swear to Christ if you drop my bag one more time I am going to jingle your bloody bells," I spat, holding May a bit too tight in my arms on account of his little to no care he was taking with my bag.

"At least I'm carrying it for you," George retorted. "I wouldn't be complaining if I were you!"

"If you call dragging it through the snow, rolling it down a hill, and throwing it unsuccessfully into the overhead compartment three times then, yes, thank you so very much for your ever so courteous care," I snapped. "You offered to carry it anyhow."

"I really should be a bit more careful," said George bitterly. "Merlin knows that half the junk in there is probably mine."

"Half?" I smirked, plopping down on the seat between George and Angelina, across from Alicia, Lee, and Fred. "That's being a bit stingy in all honesty."

"Will you two shut up already?" Fred sighed. "If I have to listen to you argue the entire ride home, a lump of coal in your stockings will be the least of your worries, lump-wise that is."

"Aw, we're only joking, Fred," said George lightheartedly, wrapping his arm around my shoulders and pulling me into an enormous forced hug as he placed a huge sloppy kiss on the top of my head. "How could anyone stay mad at a face like that?"

He kept me held against him, pushing my cheeks together with his other hand. I laughed, fought him off and tickled his side, causing him to flinch in response.

"Knock it off, you git," I laughed, smacking his arm. He gripped his arm as if I had done some permanent damage, "or I'm telling Santa you've been a naughty boy this year."

"I don't think it's a secret, mate," Lee chuckled, earning a laugh from all of us but one.

I handed May to George, and pulled my right knee up against my chest and rested my chin upon it. I caught Alicia glaring at me, her eyes narrowed and her lips as thin as McGonagall's after the time we _accidentally_ turned her hat into a opossum. Our eyes met and I quickly turned away, my face expressing sheer confusion on what to do. She'd acted indifferent to me since I'd found out about her love for talking behind my back, and now it was apparent that rude gestures had overshadowed her indifference.

"So what are you lot doing over the holidays?" asked Lee.

"My little brother is turning eight on the twenty-third," said Angelina, removing her purple wool cap. "We always sort of celebrate Christmas early. You know, kill two birds with one stone."

"I can't believe Zeke is going to be eight already," Lee replied in disbelief, saying what we were all thinking.

"You're telling me," Angelina agreed, nodding. "What about you, Lee, what are you doing over break?"

"You know my family," he shrugged. "It's just me and my Mum n' Dad. We always vacation in the Jamaica to just spend time at the beach together. Me Mum grew up there, she's a Muggle, you know. It's pretty relaxing, I have to admit, quite the opposite of a Weasley Christmas I imagine."

"We'll be missing a couple members this year," said Fred. "Ron's staying at Hogwarts and Bill can't get away from work. Not to worry, though, the lovely Penelope Clearwater will be joining us for dinner."

"I don't know who to feel worse for," said Lee. "You three or Penelope."

"You should feel bad for Percy," I smirked, hearing a slight _huff_ sound from Alicia beside me. "He's the one who will be feeling our wrath."

"But other than that we have a pretty boring holiday," George continued. "Mum distributes our usual homemade sweaters, we end up eating way too much, and Mum and Freddie end up getting in a huge argument because Winnie always spends way too much on Mum n' Dad's gifts. That's just before Mum cries herself silly and soaks Freddie's sweater when she hugs her for twenty minutes, thanking her and apologizing for shouting her head off."

"But that all occurs _before_ they get in a row because Freddie refuses to wear the skirt Mum buys her every year," Fred added.

"It's the same every year," I shrugged nonchalantly. "The arguments and the skirt."

Alicia snorted in a disgusted way so loud that I know Angelina noticed. I saw her turn her head to look at the strawberry blonde Gryffindor and send her a look as if to shut her up.

"Er— what are your plans, Leesh?" asked Angelina warily.

"I'm going to Grandfather's villa in France," said Alicia in a flighty sort of voice, jerking her attention from me to Ang. "It's really a magnificent piece of property. Grandmother's been nagging Grandfather to add onto the stables, they own too many horses you understand, and he's finally done it. I am so excited to see it."

I saw Fred look directly across to George and all they had to do was give each other that look and each of them snickered abruptly. I elbowed George in the side to shut him up and Angelina did the same to Fred. Both of them released identical groans and grabbed their sides in pain.

"That sounds nice," I commented. "I've never ridden a horse before, but I've always wanted to."

"You probably wouldn't be very good at it," said Alicia pompously. "It's much more difficult than riding a silly broom—"

"Yeah, flying hundred of feet off the ground on a stick... riding a tamed, domesticated animal..." said Fred in a condescending tone, weighing his hands up and down like he was comparing the two things. "Yep, riding a horse must be much more challenging."

Angelina shot Fred a look that he was ignoring thoroughly. Alicia crossed her arms over her chest and made the same half-snort, half-huff noise she'd been releasing since she'd sat down in our compartment. George had apparently had it with her. He jerked his head so quickly to the side that he was a red blur.

"Alicia, are you ill, are you physically inept?" he inquired harshly, pulling a delicate piece of cloth from his pocket. "You keep sounding like you're trying to hock up a bogie. If so please, by all means, accept my handkerchief to complete the job."

"Oh, thank you, George," said Alicia sweetly, reaching across me so close that she almost smacked me in the nose to take the handkerchief that he really wasn't even offering. "You're so considerate. I am feeling a bit congested, you're such a gentleman for noticing."

She was either head over heels in love with him or she was a complete moron. I think it may have been a bit of both.

"Oh, that's it—" George reared up, gritting his teeth.

"George," I hissed, digging my nails so deep in his thigh that I was surprised I didn't see blood seeping through his jeans. "You're tired, shut up and take a nap."

"Winnie," he whispered fiercely, inches from my face, sending me a vicious glare. "You're stupid, speak up and take a stand."

Everyone was staring at us now, trying desperately to eavesdrop.

"You promised," I whispered.

"I promised I would keep my mouth shut as long as she did the same, she hasn't kept up her end of the bargain, and I'm no longer inclined to keep up mine," he hissed. "You're just lucky I haven't stopped over next door to have a chat with Ginny, you know, fill her in on things."

"You're being an idiot—"

"You're the—"

"Er— Could I have a word with you two in the hallway... alone?" asked Fred with an upward inflection. "Now would nice."

George and I stood up in synch, neither of us willing to be the first to break eye contact. Fred opened the sliding door and George slammed it shut in rage. Fred crossed his arms over his chest and looked from me to George and back again, looking quite a bit like Molly but not even a tenth as intimidating. He began tapping his toe, waiting for one of us to speak first. He was out of luck, neither of us were willing to crack first.

"You know, it really sucks being left out of the loop by your best friends," he began. "Are you going to tell me what the bloody hell is going on or am I going to have to do my own investigating? Either way, I'm going to find out eventually, so you might as well spill it."

"It isn't a big deal," I frowned, caving. "We just sort of found out recently that Alicia kind of said some not so nice things about me behind my back—"

"They were more than "not so nice," quit downplaying it," said George, seething. "They were utterly horrible things that she said—"

"Well, that's neither here nor there," I sneered, glaring up at him. "The reason we are bickering is because George promised he wouldn't say anything to Alicia about her being foul to me, and he obviously isn't keeping his promise."

"What did she say exactly?" asked Fred.

George looked at me sadly, leaned in compassionately and whispered the terms of her speech into his twin's ear. Fred's arms fell as George backed away, his jaw dropped. I looked away, staring down at my boots shamefully. A couple seconds later, Fred was looking about desperately.

"Where's Ginny?" Fred exclaimed. "We'll get her to kill the bloody—"

"And this would be exactly why you were kept out of the loop, you eejit," I frowned, looking at George and waving my palm at Fred like he was the prime example. "I didn't need two irrational redheads on my hands, one was already more than I can handle."

"How are you, of all people, not flipping out over this?" asked Fred. "You have a wick as short as a stick of dynamite. How does Alicia still have the ability to ingest solid foods?"

"Because I'd just be proving her right," I sighed reluctantly. "If I were to react like I usually do then what she said about me would be true."

"Oh my god," said Fred. "You really took that load of shit spewed from her gob to heart, didn't you? She really hurt your feelings, that's why you're acting so out of your character."

"No, she didn't," I objected. "I forgot what she said five minutes after she said it. I can't even recall what she rambled on about."

"Liar," said George.

"Shut up," I snapped, jerking my attention back to him. "I wish you two would just understand that I need you to bite your tongue, sit on your hands, whatever your have to do to just ignore this entire situation."

"We can't understand if you don't give us an explanation," said Fred.

"I just don't want to be the one responsible for ruining everything," I sighed heavily. "We have a great group of seven between all of us, and if I let this Alicia thing get in the way then everything is going to fall apart. I won't let that happen."

"She's the one who's doing this," said George. "It isn't your fault."

"You can't abandon your happiness because of her," said Fred.

"Besides, Freddie, it'll always be the three of us," said George, slinging his arm over my shoulder. "The rest of the word can ruddy well sod off because we'll always have each other. She can go to hell."

"I don't want it to come to that," I objected, "If you two care about me then let this go, at least for now. I'm not asking you to be best friends with her. I just don't want you to go out of your way to be nasty. Alright? Please?"

Fred and George looked and each other warily, using their amazing ability to speak without opening their mouths and nodded agreement. They even crossed their hearts for good measure.

"This is definitely coming out of your Christmas present fund," said Fred.

"Yeah, right, like I even have a Christmas present fund to begin with," I scoffed comically.

"She's got you there, mate," said George, pointing his index finger at Fred like a gun.

"Well, you owe us regardless," said Fred, pulling back open the sliding door to lead the way back in the compartment. "You know how hard it is for me to keep my mouth shut."

"I know and thanks, Fred," I smiled and nodded thankfully after him.

"Where did you guys go?" asked Lee, looking up from his conversation with Katie to peer over at the three of us re-entering the compartment.

"Sorry, but you know how hard it is to keep our dear friend, Murderin' McKinnon here, under control," Fred beamed pridefully as if to show me off, wrapping his arm around my shoulders and pulling me snugly against him as I smiled uncomfortably. "She was thirsting for blood again, so we went searching for Montague. We couldn't find the poor guy though, you know him, probably out knitting sweaters for homeless nudists or something, always the humanitarian."

I felt George's hot breath on the back of my neck as he leaned in close to whisper in my ear.

"And you were worried about _me_," he teased, tugging my side-braid in jest before returning to his seat.

I may have not been _Murderin'_ McKinnon before, but Fred and George were seriously making me consider living up to my new nickname and making them my first victims. _Bloody gits._

–

_**A/N: **__And this chapter was even longer than the last one. Over 10,000 words? What the hell is wrong with me? Well, I've been sick the past couple days leaving me with nothing to do but sit in bed and write. Not to mention, my best friend won't be back in town for another 2 weeks and I am boycotting my other friends until then. That sounds bad, but it's complicated, but anyways..._

_I told you before, I am determined to finish Part I before I leave for London. I am going to do it, I swear. I wrote this chapter in 2 days or so. I lied, by the way. I think it'll be about 15 chapters, not 13 like I previously estimated. I received some amazing reviews this time around, and I just wanted to respond to a couple because some raised a couple questions deserving answers. They're at the bottom. Thank you everyone who reviewed:_

_**.Moony., Misssyl, Kumori Gem, FredsLastLaugh, .gal., IluvKellanForever, Shrimp Chimp, Catylin,Weasleygirl31, Maddie Black, fanny-kun, BrookeXisXanXemu, wiatch, harleyquincabaret, spannieren, dreamingofmagic, HuffiieKaulitz**_

_**I thanked you all personally below :)**_

_**PS:**__ I am SO happy almost all of you were Team George. I don't want any of you to hate me if it takes awhile for... well, I'm not going to ruin anything, but I just want you to stick with me on this series. I promise that it will end well no matter how we get there. The end justifies the means._

_**PSS: **__If you're wondering where I got Maddy Crouch and Dylan... search no further... __**HadleyConlon**__ is the creator of these lovely characters in her George/OC series that starts with __**"Maddy Crouch"**__ and goes on to __**"Because You Live"**__ so far. Check it out. You won't regret it, it's really getting good._

_**Questions for you: **__Do you think Winnie made the right decision by making Fred and George keep their mouths shut and not telling the others about Alicia's transgressions? Do you think the twins are in character, like personality and humor-wise etc? I'm scared I'm not doing them justice. They're extremely hard to write by the way if you haven't tried it, they're emotionally complex yet constantly funny. Lastly, is Freddie annoying anyone? I love her so much that I may be overlooking character flaws, and I'll die if I create another Mary Sue and don't realize it until halfway through Part II._

_**HadleyConlon:**__I used Maddy again, I'm sorry if you hate me for it. I even tossed in Dylan there for a second. I just love them :) I probably won't do it again for the remainder of Part I though. I don't want to steal your characters even if it's just briefly. I'd love to toss her in as a quick conversation now and then in the distant future, however, if you let me. If not, it's totally cool, I understand!_

_**Maddie Black:**__ First off, I frigging adore you. Second, I absolutely agree with you. In a lot of my other fics I don't show enough detail into the real relationships between my characters. For example, in A Death Eater's Daughter (gag me), my main characters basically fell in love in 2 chapters and that was it. I want to develop them though little scenes etc. However, you will be happy to know that there will be a climax at the end (last chapter or 2) that involves the whole Alicia/George/Winnie/Oliver love square and the twins finding out about her relationship with Wood. You'll just have to wait and see how it plays out ;) Also, I don't want Part I to be like extremely intense because Part II is going to be insanely busy. She'll be developing her ability, the whole boy issues, I'm going to be going into her relationship with her Mother a lot more because keep in mind... Igor Karkaroff at least assisted in the murders of her entire family and he's returning to Hogwarts for the Tournament. She and George are going to be going through a ton as well. I'm excited to get into it needless to say. I rambled through this, but I just didn't want you to get bored and think this is going no where!_

_**Weasleygirl31:**__ I like to think of Winnie and George this way... I don't know if you've ever watched Merlin (if you haven't you totally should), but the main characters (Arthur and Morgana) had a romance on the show and they had grown up the same way as George and Winnie, same home etc. I probably didn't prove anything if you haven't watched the show, but if you ever watch the first episode of the series you'll understand where I'm coming from._

_**.Moony:**__ Thanks so much! I'm glad you're enjoying it so far!_

_**FredsLastLaugh:**__ You know I adore you, girl! Thanks for reading as usual!_

_**Misssyl:**__ I am extremely glad you're team George! And I'm happy you enjoyed the Percy bit. I wanted to make him seem human before he turns into stone for awhile._

_**.gal: **__Shut up! I'll probably run into you and not know it! My friend Maria (FredsLastLaugh) will be studying abroad there too! It's nuts how many people are going there this summer. Uh, and Genie? Brilliant! I love it! I'll admit that Wollie (oh, yeah check that out) will carry on for awhile, but I promise you won't be disappointed with where Winnie and George's relationship is going and developing into. A Sirius Black related scene will pop up very soon by the way... thanks again for reviewing!_

_**IluvKellanForever: **__Thanks for reviewing! I think Sir Cadogen is hilarious!_

_**Shrimp Chip: **__Thank you so much! I love new readers! Yeah, I agree about the pigtails. I looks moronic in them in my opinion as well, so I transferred my dream of being able to pull them off onto her haha. I love your signature by the way._

_**Catylin: **__Thanks with a thousand explanation points at the end! We shall see about this Seer business..._

_**fanny-kun:**__ Thanks, girl, it means a lot coming from you because you're a fantastic writer! I like Winnie and Oliver too, I must admit. I intend on taking them a long ways. I'm glad you like that I'm following the book so closely as well._

_**BrookeXisXanXemu: **__There are no words to describe how thankful I am that you are reading and reviewing!_

_**Wiatch:**__ I love Maddy too! I know you wanted to see Moony, so I gave you a brief bit with him. I'm sorry it was so short and meaningless, but I wanted to show him nonetheless! Thanks so much for reading and reviewing!_

_**Harlequincabaret:**__ You basically took the words right out of my mouth to how I feel about those three. Thanks so much for reading and reviewing!_

_**Spannieren:**__ Thanks so much! I just had to have Ollie redeem himself, you know ;)_

_**dreamingofmagic:**__Thank you so much and I agree with what you said completely. We'll see how things turn out in the future ;)_

_**HuffieKaulitz:**__Yes! Thanks so much for commenting! You're one of my most dedicated readers and reviewers and I appreciate more than you know!_


	12. Chapter 12: The Holiday Spirit

_**Chapter Twelve**_

_The Holiday Spirit_

–

_We are asleep with compasses in our hands._

–

"Oh, Gingersnap, it's so nice to be sharing a room with you again," I smiled, collapsing back onto my cushy mattress and maroon down comforter. I'd opted to just dropping my bag onto the floor by the door instead of unpacking like Ginny and Percy so responsibly chose to do. Ginny smiled to herself at my comment, sat down on her twin bed beside me and set her own bag beside her to empty out.

"The feeling is mutual, believe me," said Ginny. "I swear to god if I had to inhale one more puff of Elizabeth Morgan's perfume or have to listen to one more cry session from Katie James over her idiot boyfriend I was going to pull my hair out."

"And it's such pretty hair," I smirked, hanging my head over the side of the bed and looking at her upside down.

"Aw, you're a doll," said Ginny sarcastically, pouting her lips and hooding her eyelids.

Ginny and I had always gotten along brilliantly, our senses of humor were nearly identical. Honestly, we fought less than I did with Fred and George. She was a lot like me, and she was the most like a sibling to me than any of the other Weasley children. She was actually the only one I considered to be a sibling at all. I would always say that the twins were like my brothers, but I really just thought of them like best mates I was lucky enough to grow up with in the same house.

A house that was only going to be inhabiting five offspring for the next three days. Molly and Arthur were going to spend a few days with Bill in Egypt since he isn't able to get away from work to come home for Christmas this year. I was looking forward to enjoying the freedom of the Burrow without Molly's nagging for once, though Percy would undoubtedly do a decent job imitating his Mum in her absence. Molly and Arthur merely dropped us off at the door, informing us of a cupboard stocked full of prepared meals for the three days they'd be away and apparated off to their destination, leaving us to our own devices.

The house was decorated to perfection. A handsome Christmas tree, covered in tinsel and ornaments the size of your head dangled from the thick branches with a gnome at the very top. Evergreen leaves hung upon the walls with a cliché mistletoe hanging above the ancient sofa that Molly put up every year so she and Arthur could snog in a disgustingly adorable way every two seconds once they drank too much eggnog on Christmas Eve. It was a holiday bleeding tradition.

I kicked off my boots that Molly had scolded me to take off outside the house before she left, and through off my outerwear. I pulled out an ancient pair of maroon boxer shorts with gray polka dots (at least I think they were polka dots) that's cleanliness was unknown as well as the identity of the previous owner and traded my torn jeans for the thinning fabric. I snuggled up in the sweatshirt Oliver had given me and pulled the thick, warm comforter over me. I stretched like a lazy cat and rolled on my side to face Ginny.

"It's three in the afternoon, Freddie," Ginny chuckled.

"Already?" I gasped. "It is way past my bedtime."

"I have never met anyone who loves sleep as much as you do," Ginny smirked, folding her clothes neatly upon the edge of her bed.

"And you never will," I yawned, sliding my hand under my goose-feathered pillows that felt like clouds beneath my head. I felt May curl up against my feet, purring gently.

"You do realize you'll be lucky to get 2 minutes of sleep once Fred and George finish doing... or rather destroying whatever they're destroying," said Ginny. "You'll be woken up by what will undoubtedly be an explosion of some sort."

"They wouldn't blow anything up without me," I said, unfazed, "and just tell them I'm getting a headache."

"Since when has that ever worked?" asked Ginny.

"Since I changed the lock on our door," I grinned, closing my eyes like a sly feline.

–

_It was pitch black, my eyelids too heavy to open. I was so comfortable under my warm blankets, enjoying the soft feel against my skin. I was so angry when the sound began to ring in my ears, that incessant sound that was so familiar though I could not place where I heard it before. I felt the gentle fluttering of strips begin to fall atop my body. I rolled over onto my side, lifting my impossibly heavy eyelids and came face-to-face with the source of the noise. I instantly knew where I had heard it before. It was the sound of a blade ripping cloth to shreds, it was the same knife and more importantly the same criminal. It was Sirius Black, more like a skeleton than before. He clutched the butcher knife above my head, his sunken in eyes haunting my very soul._

_He was going to kill me that was it. I was done for. It was a miracle I had the chance to run last time, but there was no escape now. My short, meaningless life was about to end at the bony hand of Sirius Black. The draft from my lack of hangings around my bed sent a chill down my spine that could in no way compare to the chill I felt from locking eyes with the devil himself. I don't know how my mind managed to tell my body how to react, but I heard a bloodcurdling scream coming from my own lips though it wasn't my voice. I pushed myself up into a sitting position, scurrying backwards against my headboard like a crab. I was shaking with sheer terror, sweat dripping down my face at an inhuman rate, the look on my assassin's face displayed fury because of my decision to call for help. _

_I continued to scream as loud as I possibly could, and no more that seconds later Sirius Black had disappeared as quickly as he had come. I was left alone in the dark, gasping for air and too frightened to move or think. The most terrifying thing about the entire mortifying incident: I recognized the voice that came from my open mouth. I knew who the scream belonged to and that fact froze my very insides._

"Winnie?" a distant voice called to me, but all I saw was darkness. "Winnie, for Merlin's sake, wake up!"

The blackness began to clear, my vision still blurry. I was being gripped by my shoulders, someone was shaking me violently. Slowly the haziness before my eyes cleared and Ginny's face became distinct through the nonexistent fog before my shiny blue orbs. She held an apprehensive palm on my cheek as I trembled in fear. I heard heavy pounding on the locked door that lead into our room. The twins didn't give Ginny enough time to unlock the door before they broke down the heavy wooden door, falling headfirst. Fred fell atop of George, leaving them in a pathetic pile on the floor. Percy casually stepped er them, looking down at them with a revolted expression. The twins scrambled to their feet and to my bedside before he could, however, shoving Percy roughly to the side.

"What's wrong, Freddie?" asked George fretfully, sitting on the side opposite of Ginny.

"She was muttering something about Sirius Black and Ron," said Ginny in a bewildered voice, looking over to her three brothers. "Then she just started screaming like someone was trying to kill her or something. Do you think we should send for Mum and Dad at Charlie's? Maybe they should come home early if Winnie's sick or something–"

"No," I choked out frantically. "No, I'm fine. It was just another bad dream."

"No one acts like that when they just have a bad dream, Winnie," said Ginny gently. "Maybe you really are sick and need–"

"What did you see?" asked Percy suddenly, speaking for the first time in a swift tone.

"I don't remember," I lied.

"Tell me, Winifred," Percy insisted fiercely, earning shocked glances from his siblings.

I didn't want to tell him. I didn't want to tell anyone. It was just a stupid nightmare, a _bad _stupid nightmare, but stupid nonetheless. I knew that it would be blown out of proportion even more, but I had also promised Percy that I would come to him if I had a similar episode like I had had the night Sirius Black had attacked the Fat Lady. I sighed heavily and looked up at the pompous redhead.

"Like she said, something about Ron being attacked by Sirius Black," I said, trying to seem coy. "But I told you, it was just another nightmare."

Percy remained silent for a moment, digesting my statement. It didn't take him long to create a plan of action.

"I'm going to write Professor Dumbledore," said Percy indignantly, turning to leave without another word.

"What? No!" I objected, shoving my covers off my legs and taking to my wary feet. "Why would you do that?"

"Because I promised I would inform of any additional episodes you had in regards to the Sirius Black situation," he explained simply, puffing out his chest.

"What are you talking about?" I said shallowly, my body numb. "I heard you, y– you didn't tell Dumbledore about the Argyllshire Map incident. Y– You even lied for me."

"Well, of course, I didn't speak candidly to the Headmaster in front of you," he said in a very professional manner, treating me as if I were a toddler. "I knew you would make a huge ordeal out of it if I had, and I would never lie to my superiors, Winifred, not for your, not for anyone. I would have expected you to know that by now."

"B– But you said you were worried about me, that y– you cared about my well-being," I stammered. "It was all an act then? You just used me t- to boost your reputation with Dumbledore? I trusted you!"

"Well, when you say it like that–" he said, almost blaming me for making him seem like the villain.

"How else is there to say it?" I spat. "You've successfully made me look like a nutter to Dumbledore."

"Professor Dumbledore did not think you were any less sane than before," said Percy, his confidence never wavering. "In fact, he didn't seem all that surprised that that had happened to you, bizarre really. He was rather impressed, and pleased I took it upon myself to bring the situation to his attention. He even asked me to keep him updated on your – well, he referred to it as an ability for some reason – but that is neither here nor there. I am keeping to my word, it is my duty as Head Boy."

"I cannot believe you would do this to me," I said fiercely. "You've betrayed my trust for your own self interest."

"You must understand my delicate position, Winifred–"

"Get out, Percy," I said in an almost exhausted voice, lowering my head and allowing my knees to buckle to sit beside George on the corner of my bed, "just leave me alone."

"Win–"

"You heard her, Big Head," said Fred, a disappointed look on his face.

"She said get out," said George sadly, a level of respect dwindling for his elder brother, "and she meant it."

Percy rolled his eyes as if we were the ones in the wrong and turned his back to us in order to leave.

"Be a dear and get the door on your way out," said Ginny crudely, hooding her eyelids.

He didn't even bother pivoting about. With one, swift motion he pulled his wand from his breast pocket and waved his wand at the fallen door. It sung back up in its proper position with a loud _BOOM_, the hinges snapping back into place last. I looked over my shoulder, trying to stretch to see my own back.

"What are you doing?" asked George warily.

"I'm just checking to see if I have a bulls-eye on my back," I said sadistically. "Do you see anything–"

George reached out and wrapped his lengthy fingers around my wrist, gradually pulling it back down to my waist. He didn't release it, choosing to stroke his thumb gently over the top of my hand.

"Alright, what's going on?" asked Ginny, determined.

"Percy's a git is all," I frowned.

"Yes, we knew that already," said Ginny, nodding slowly in agreement, "but what is he talking about some map to Argyllshire, and how does Dumbledore play into this?"

"Honestly, Gin, I don't even understand everything myself," I sighed despondently.

"Give it a go," she persisted, tilting her head to the side.

"Well, it all started when I had this barmy bad dream on the night Sirius Black got into the castle," I began reluctantly. "I guess I muttered something about a map to Argyllshire on the second floor in my sleep and the twins and Percy overheard me. Percy went off his rocker when the Fat Lady was coincidentally found in the portrait of the map and made a big deal out of nothing–"

"That was wonderful story, Freddie," said Fred rudely, weighing down my bed as the fourth person upon it. "If you don't mind, I think I will tell the true story, and then you can proceed with the rest of your fairytale."

"Fred–" I began.

"Winnie may have had a bad dream, but she was in some sort of eerie trance for a long time. Her eyes rolled in the back of her head, she was rocking back and forth and talking nonsense about the Argyllshire Map," Fred continued. "We couldn't get her to snap out of it for more than five minutes."

"It's funny how it was you who kept insisting it was just a bad dream when it initially happened," I snapped, "and that I shouldn't worry–"

"That was before Dumbledore got involved," he interrupted, "though I'm still sort of confused about that bit–"

"Why would Dumbledore want Percy to tell him if you had another nightmare?" asked George. "I mean, if it was nothing then why was he so intrigued?"

"Percy said he wasn't even surprised about it either," Ginny added.

"I don't even know what_ it_ is he wasn't surprised about," I shrugged. "All I know is, I need to find a way to stop _it_ from ever happening again."

I went onto explain the details of my prior conversation with Percy that had caused me to become to perturbed to Ginny, having already told the twins months ago. I should have suspected foul play. It was Percy after all, and the only thing more odd than Percy being genuine would have to be... well, there isn't anything more odd or unlikely than Percy being genuine. I had had two people I considered to be friends (yes, I considered Percy a friend) stab me square in the back. I wasn't used to this. I didn't typically allow put myself in a position to be hurt by others. I usually had all the power in all the relationships I shared, however, I felt more powerless now than I ever had before.

I should have had my guard up the entire time with Percy, like I always do, but he had called me "Freddie." He had called me "Freddie" and he hugged me, two things I hadn't been accustomed to from him in years. He seemed, for just a moment, like the Perce I used to play with when I was little, but I was wrong. I know it shouldn't have bothered me so much, but my mind couldn't stop replaying our heartfelt conversation that I now knew to be fake.

–

Charlie came home to the Burrow a few days before Christmas, his hair shaggier than I'd ever seen it. His hands were callused and his skin tanned from his job of working with dragons in Romania. It was what he'd always wanted to do since he was young, and I'd never seen him happier than he was now. Charlie had always been my favorite Weasley boy besides the twins and possibly Ron on a good day (though I'd never tell him), he had a sense of humor similar to that of me, Ginny, Fred, and George. More importantly, he enjoyed teasing Percy almost as much as we did.

I hadn't had a decent night's sleep since my nightmare. I was scared to allow myself to fall into a deep sleep because I was frightened of what would happen once I slipped into unconsciousness. Molly had asked me a dozen times if I was ill because of the sizable, dark bags growing under my eyes, but I insisted it was just a bout of insomnia. Fred, George, and Ginny had been wary to bring up the incident to me again, scared it would upset me. They would have been right. I kept catching them looking at me out of the corner of my eye, surveying me like I was some sort of bomb about to explode or something. I was on edge, and I needed to get my mind off things before I snapped. I woke up, or rather sat up from lying on my back for eight hours, on Christmas Eve determined to keep my mind off things by planning a way to seek revenge on Percy for his betrayal. I was distracted in another way, however, and that was by means of an outdoors activity.

Charlie, Fred, George, Ginny, and I were competing in a free for all snowball fight in the front yard. I was frozen solid but hadn't noticed due to the fact that I was laughing so hard I was completely numb from head to toe. George ran at me and lifted me up in the air and tossed me into a huge snow pile, burying like I was encompassed in sand on a beach. I fought my way out and yanked him down by his ankles, shoving his face into the snow. He rolled over on his back, though I still had him pinned by straddling him around his waist. We were both laughing so hard that icy tears were streaming down our cheeks. Charlie and Ginny had Fred cornered when a bloodcurdling scream stopped everyone in their tracks. I looked down at George and a sly smile began to spread across his frostbitten face. The backdoor swung open and Percy came barreling out in a towel, soap suds still dripping over his otherwise naked body. His hair... well, it was fluorescent green, almost glowing in the sunlight. My jaw dropped to the floor, I'd never seen Percy so furious before. George had stretched his neck out to get a look at Percy upside down. He appeared to have already expected to see what we saw because he only looked at his now green-haired older brother for a second or two. I peered down at George and he winked at me.

"We may or may not have replaced his shampoo with Madam Miraphina's Miracle Rainbow Hair Dye," George whispered.

"I'm guessing you _may_ have," I whispered back.

"YOU!" Percy bellowed, pointing his index finger from Fred to George and I, his arm shaking with rage rather than from the cold. "YOU did this!"

I climbed up off George and helped pull him up off the snow.

"Did what, Perce?" asked Fred, pretending nothing was out of the ordinary.

"Don't play dumb with me!"

"Wouldn't think of it, mate, you're better at it," said George. "Don't want to embarrass ourselves in a stupid contest against the world champion."

"You have ten seconds to tell me how to fix this," he bellowed, pointing to his scalp. "Ten, nine, eight..."

"Yeah, that's going to be difficult considering it takes two weeks to wear off," said Fred, tapping his chin in faux thought as he strode over beside George and I to sling his other arm over my shoulder.

"What is all the commotion about then?" asked Molly, charging in from the backdoor with her apron whipping around from the wind. She stopped dead in her tracks when she set eyes on the scene before her. Her mouth hung open, her eyes open wide. She couldn't even move for several seconds before she finally slowly turned her head to the three of us in dramatic fashion and lowered her voice in a venomous manner. "What have you done?"

"I would have thought that would've been pretty obvious–"

"Shut it," I hissed, elbowing George in the side.

I looked from Fred to George and took a determined step forward, keeping my head held high. Molly popped out her hip, her hands held firm at her side as she looked me down.

"I'm responsible, Molls," I said confidently. "Fred and George didn't have anything to do with it."

Fred and George both stepped forward, each taking an arm to yank me backwards with an abrupt jerk. They leaned in close to my ears, their faces partially confused and partially angry.

"What are you doing?" Fred whispered fiercely.

"I know exactly what I'm doing," I smiled all-knowingly. "I know how to get all of us out of this unscathed. Trust me."

Their grips loosened to the point where I could step forward again.

"This was just a huge misunderstanding," I smiled innocently. "You see, Percy asked me how I keep my hair so silky and shiny–"

Charlie snorted a laugh, and I shot him a nasty glare before continuing.

"As I was saying... I was telling him all about my secret conditioner that I conjure up myself," I continued. "Unfortunately, if you don't let it sit for a week before its first use then you have this whole color changing side-effect. Percy obviously didn't follow my directions thoroughly–"

"Oh, that is completely–" started Percy furiously.

"You remember, Perce?" I interrupted, snapping my neck to grit my teeth at him. "That was the night you were telling me all about your responsibilities as Head Boy. I've been meaning to brag to Molls about it, you know about how great of a friend you are."

"You–" he started.

"Oh, Molls, you'd be so proud of him," I gushed melodramatically, holding my hand over my heart before crossing my arms over my chest. "He's like Dumbledore's right hand man up at school, he's even using me–"

"Yeah, Mum, no worries," said Percy reluctantly, sounding like it almost physically pained him to speak. "It was just an accident, no need to punish Winifred for my blunder. I– I'll just suffer the consequences..."

"You should be more careful next time, Percy," Molly lectured. "It's not Winnie's fault this happened. She should have been able to trust your actions once you were blessed with that information."

"I won't be so careless again," he sneered, narrowing his eyes upon me.

"Now get inside, you're going to catch your death," she warned, taking him by the arm. "I have to prepare a Christmas feast for nine people in less than twenty-four hours, and I can't keep having to intervene with your insignificant squabbles."

"Better make that eight plates, Mother," said Percy, flashing a vindictive look back at the three of us as he followed Molly into the house. "I will be advising Penelope not to join us due to my recent physical gaffe."

Fred snatched me up around my waist and spun me around, my arms still crossed over my chest. I couldn't help but smile, eventually caving in and laughing as he stumbled to continue to twirl me. He set me down so I could take an overzealous bow to my audience.

"Thank you, thank you," I chuckled. "Hold your applause, please."

Ginny and Charlie shuffled through the snow to join our small group, laughing along with us.

"So you successfully managed to get all three of you out of being punished for dying Percy's hair," said Charlie reluctantly, "and then in response got out of having Penelope Clearwater joining us for Christmas dinner."

"Not to mention, Percy was the one who ended up getting scolded by Mum," Ginny smiled happily. "You're brilliant, Freddie!"

"She learned from the best," George smirked, dangling his arm over my shoulders and pulling me against him.

"Bullocks," I teased. "You lot were going to take the fall without any excuses. Though, it was rather sweet of you two to turn his hair green in my honor. Thanks, loves."

"We're always here when you need us," said Fred, "especially when it comes to defacing... er– well, Percy."

–

I sat before the crackling fire in the hearth. It was five minutes 'til midnight, five minutes 'til Christmas. I was fighting my overwhelming urge to give into my body's craving to sleep for what seemed like the millionth day in a row. My eyes felt dry and ached painfully like my throat and joints from exhaustion. The ancient, velvet sofa wasn't helping either, along with the soft cotton blanket I had covering me up to my elbows. I was wearing my gift from Oliver again and my new favorite polka dot maroon boxer shorts I'd found the night of my nightmare. I curled my legs up against my chest, resting my chin atop my knees and losing my thoughts in the hypnotizing flames within the fireplace. I was utterly alone, everyone was too tired to stay up later than ten o'clock all thanks to our intense snowball fight no doubt. Only I had battled the Sandman, and I couldn't tell whether or not I was winning or losing anymore.

In about seven hours or so, as tradition, we would all come downstairs as soon as the first person woke and open presents. I would receive my traditional sweater from Molly with some delicious treats no doubt, and something clever from Ginny, Bill, and Charlie, then Ron, Fred, and George would gift me with something from Zonko's as they usually did. The twins and I hadn't bothered exchanging gifts with Percy for years, so no worries there. I'd gotten Molly a day at the best spa in Diagon Alley with Madam Blavatsky, hair, nails, the works. I bought Arthur loads of Muggle magazines and something called a television that this dodgy street vender talked me into purchasing over something that looked rather similar called a microwave. I bought Charlie the best pair of the best dragon-handling gloves that I could find, and Ginny the sundress I saw her admiring in the store window at Madam Malkin's. I sent Bill this new magic quill that calculated math problems in half the time, and Ron an entire bucket of sweets from Diagon Alley that should last him... er– a week maybe. Then the twins were to expect a box of fireworks a piece and "_Pranks, Jokes, Gags and How to Get Away With Them_" by Uther Svalbard. I certainly wouldn't give them their gifts in front of Molly, I wasn't stupid.

I yawned and rubbed my eyes, peering over at the dimly illuminated Christmas tree and wondering which gifts belonged to me. A chill in the air caused me to shiver, clutching the thick green blanket closer against me. I reached before me and sipped a bit of hot chocolate from my mug, enjoying the feeling of heat absorbing my body. It numbed my sore throat momentarily, though it succeeded in making my fatigue more evident. However, whenever I replayed the events that took place a week prior, I felt a sudden jolt of energy. I almost dropped my mug upon the coffee table when a creak in the floorboard behind me startled me to my core. I jerked my head to see what had caused it and was relieved to see it was just George, though I wished I could just be left alone in the dark. May, who had been apparently snoozing under the shadows of the Christmas tree, leaped onto the sofa next to me.

"George?" I hissed, pulling May onto my lap.

"No, it's Father Christmas," he said sarcastically, plopping down close beside me. "Now, come and sit on my lap and tell me what you want for Christmas."

"Shut up," I smirked, nudging him. "What are you doing up?"

"Throat was dry," he replied, reaching for my hot chocolate and taking a sip. "_You,_ however, seem fully hydrated. What are you doing down here alone in the dark?"

"I'm secretly a vampire, didn't you know?" I replied, scratching May behind the ears.

"I wish," he teased, hanging both his arms on the back of the couch. "Then you'd be more of a useful when we need you to for matters of intimidation."

"George Weasley, I am very intimidating," I said indignantly, poking his chest with my index finger as he chuckled at me. "I strike fear in the hearts of many, one of which being you."

"You're about as intimidating as a dandelion," he smiled condescendingly.

"Well, y– you're–" I began but was cut off by a loud, unavoidable yawn. "I had something extremely clever to counter your insult, but my insult seemed to have temporarily erased my memory."

"Typical excuse," he smirked, "but really, what's keeping you up? Trying to catch Father Christmas in the act?"

"That's because I can't," I said, looking up at him.

"Why not?" he inquired. "You look like you're exhausted. It isn't because you're scared to have another one of those dreams or whatever they are, is it?"

I lowered my head in shame and looked away before I felt a gangly are wrap around my shoulders affectionately.

"I'm scared that as soon as I close my eyes it's going to happen again," I frowned.

"I'm sure being stabbed to death by Sirius Black isn't exactly my first choice for a dream," said George.

"It's not that that terrifies me," I said, shaking my head. "What frightens me is that there is a chance these nightmares I'm having could come true. The first one did, and I pray this one doesn't though I know he doesn't get the chance to harm Ron if it does at least. But what if I have another dream, and what if he kills someone in this dream? And what if I'm helpless to stop it?"

"Listen, maybe that first incident was just a fluke," said George. "Obviously Ron is still alright, so maybe it was nothing. Don't worry to much until Ron is almost turned into chopped liver."

I know he was trying to cheer me up but it wasn't doing much good, and I think he knew it.

"How about I sit here tonight with you while you sleep?" he said kindly. "I'll stay up all night, so if Sirius Black comes around I'll tell him to piss off."

"George, that's insane," I said. "You're not going to sit up just so I can sleep."

"I'm not even tired," he lied, "and how could you not feel safe with me as your personal dream body guard?"

"No, you–"

"You accept?" he said with an upward inflection, answering for me. "Brilliant."

"Thanks, George," I said warily. "I know you really don't want to be up–"

"To the contrary," he started. "I'm sort of glad you and I are both up late because I wanted to give you your Christmas present."

"It's not Christmas yet," I smirked.

George held his index finger in the air at the precise moment the grandfather clock struck twelve, and I proceeded to stick my tongue out at him.

"Well, I guess you _are_ Father Christmas," I teased. "but if this gift bites, stinks, implodes, or explodes please wait until tomorrow. I'm not mentally prepared for anything crazy tonight."

George pretended as if he hadn't heard my warning and proceeded to kneel before the Christmas tree, stretching out to reach a gift hidden far in the back of the tree. He pulled out about a four inch thick, square package that was wrapped in wrinkled brown paper and a red yarn that met in the center of the gift to make a bow that resembled that of a tennis shoe bow. It was quite the opposite of Oliver's pristine and perfectly gifted present, but I think I may have liked this more. He returned to his seat beside me and placed the gift in my lap once May jumped onto the floor. I looked apprehensively up at him, my fingers slowly took hold of the yarn before I stopped.

"Should I be warned of anything before I open this?" I asked warily.

"Just don't think any less of me after you see it," he shrugged. "Oh, and don't tell Fred. He'll think I'm going soft."

Anxious to see what this could possibly be, I delicately unwrapped the paper to find a leather-bound album with a picture of the twins and I on the front from last summer in Egypt. I looked curiously up at him before pulling back the cover to flip through the pages. It had three different sections to break up the numerous pages. It started with photos of Fred, George and I from recent years and went chronologically backwards. It was titled "_Two Freds and A George_." Then the middle section was titled "_Those Wacky Weasleys_" and had dozens of photos dating back from when I was three until fifteen of a mix of the ten of us. I hadn't expected something so thoughtful and creative and... well, adorable.

After I finished gushing about how wonderful his photo album was I turned the page to the final and thinnest section of photos. It was titled "_Mum and Dad_," and I froze before I flipped the page. For a moment, I thought it was going to be some sick joke, you know, like he clipped a bunch of pictures of a wild boar and street rat or something. However, my breath got caught up in my throat when I saw that they were real, honest to goodness pictures of my Mum and Dad. There were some of them when they were in the order together, holding each other and smiling. There were some of my Mum when she was at Hogwarts with my late Aunt Abigail and even a couple with each of my parents with my grandparents. The last couple pages were photos of just me and my Mum, pictures I'd never seen before. She was so beautiful. I looked up at George, fighting tears that hadn't been released in over a decade.

"G– George, how did you– I mean–" I stammered, unable to retrieve the necessaries words.

"I've been working on it in my spare time since last I thought of the idea a couple summers ago when I spotted you eyeing the album Hagrid had made for Harry," he shrugged like it was nothing. "I dug through about four dozen boxes of old pictures on the basement that Mum had forgotten about, took me the entire weekend you spent at Angie's last July to finish going through them all."

"But the pictures of my parents–"

"Now those were tricky," he began coyly. "I asked Dad about who your Mum and Dad's best friends were, but most of them were er– killed. Your Mum's best friends were my Uncles Gid and Fabian, by the way. Anyways, he gave me the names of a ten or so who were still around who I took it upon myself to write, and about a half-dozen wrote back saying they had held on to a picture or two from back then and enclosed them. I'm glad I started it so long ago because I finally just got my last picture in the mail last week."

I suddenly propelled myself forward, most likely taking him off guard, wrapping my arms around his neck and resting my chin behind the back of his neck. He held me tight back, pressing his open palm gently against the back of my head. I pulled away, lazily dangling my wrists over his shoulders and looking dead in his eyes, my face as pale as a ghost.

"George, this is the greatest, most wonderful, sweetest–"

"Just say thank you, Win," he smiled feebly.

"Thank you," I said softly, placing my palm on his cheek. "You've made this the best Christmas I've ever had. I just wish I could make yours as great as you've made mine."

"Well, if you got me those fireworks I wanted then it'll be a pretty memorable holiday–" he smirked.

"You know I bought you those, you foul rotten codger," I teased. "I know you peeked under my bed, but is there anything I could buy you, any thing you really want? I know that sounds awful in comparison."

George looked at me in a way that wasn't familiar to me and I eyed him curiously. It was an almost fearful expression, sort of unsure in a way.

"There is something," he said sheepishly, "something I've sort of been wanting to do for awhile now."

"What?" I inquired, furrowing my brows.

George's eyes slowly looked up at the ceiling. He was gazing at the dangling mistletoe directly above us. My stomach dropped to my feet when his eyes drew back to mine. I didn't know what to do, so I remained perfectly still like a deer in front of a pair of headlights. Then my mind started racing, a hundred thousand thoughts began to tumble about within my skull. He was going to kiss me. George was going to kiss me. Oh my dear God. The main question that came to mind was: Do I want him to kiss me? That was scary, why did I even need to ask myself that. It should have been an automatic 'no.' Oliver was my boyfriend, and he was the only person I wanted to snog. Not to mention George was my best friend, and I shouldn't think of him as anything but in a platonic way. I started shaking a bit, uncontrollably.

It may have just been the fact that I was delirious from the lack of sleep, but I was going to kiss him back. When he leaned in closer I was going to lock lips with him on my own freewill. Why? I don't know. It must have just been the holiday spirit within me. Wait– No, what was I thinking? I was absolutely not going to kiss him.

_Snap out of it, Winnie, pull away. PULL AWAY. Pull away, and tell him about Oliver. Tell him the truth, you owe him that. He deserves to know what you've been keeping from him for all these months then he won't even think of what he wants to do right now. Just do it and get it over with, face the consequences._

"George–" I began to object.

"So will you help me rip down that bloody mistletoe before tomorrow night?" he smirked. "If I have to see Mum and Dad snog each other under the damn thing one more bloody time I'm going to vomit up my fruit cake."

"What? Er– Yeah, of course," I said, taking my hands down from his neck.

Was a disappointed? I really need sleep because I am obviously losing my mind.

"Lift me on your shoulders?" I asked dumbly.

"Yeah, the usual," he grinned.

"Great," I nodded halfheartedly, looking away. I collapsed harshly against the back of the couch without another word, and George instantly pulled me into the crook between his side and his arm that I fit so perfectly between. I laid my head upon his shoulder and shut my eyes. He rested his chin atop my head affectionately and gently ran his fingers up and down my arm in a steady motion. I realized may not have been restless due to Sirius Black any longer, but my dreams were now haunted by a certain tall, apparently thoughtful redhead. I didn't know which was more unsettling.

–

_**A/N:**__ So, this chapter was embarrassingly dreadful. It started off decent, but I ended up accidentally deleting the file. I rewrote it, and it was an epic fail. Maybe you guys will think it's decent, but I'm sort of not loving it. I erased the end myself and changed it to what it is now... it initially ended with them kissing, but I decided it was too soon. Also, Winnie isn't the sort of person to be radically unfaithful to her boyfriends, and I didn't want her to seem like that. She thought about kissing him back, and that's what's important._

_**PS:**__ Thanks everyone for reviewing again! I adore all of you! I'm going to try to fit in another chapter or two within the next week, but we shall see. I want to shoot for 225 reviews before chapter 13, so if you haven't reviewed before please let me know what you think! Thanks, loves!_

_**PSS:**__ Excuse any typos for now. I'm going back later when I'm not exhausted to edit my errors._

_**Would you rather: **__Have Winnie and Oliver be caught in the act or have Freddie tell them herself?_

–

_**Write Back Wednesday**_

_**HadleyConlon:**__ Thank you for letting me use Maddy. She's amazing and so are you :)_

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_**TonksLovesMoony:**__ Thanks so much! I'm glad you're enjoying it so far!_

_**FredsLastLaugh:**__ I love you, girl! Thanks for reading as usual!_

_**Misssyl:**__ The vision thing will be explained probably the chapter after next depending on how much I fit in the next chappie :) I won't leave you guys hanging though, that will all be explained soon. Oh, and Angelina will figure things out soon enough :) She's a true friend._

_**Daliha: **__Thanks so much, and I'm almost done with your first chapter! Expect it by tomorrow night :)_

_**IluvKellanForever: **__Thanks for reviewing and bringing that damn glitch to my attention again!_

_**Shrimp Chip: **__Thank you so much! And Freddie's coyness towards Alicia's shittiness may change in the future... we shall see..._

_**Catylin: **__Thanks so much! I'm going to read and review your one shot now..._

_**fanny-kun:**__ The drama is coming soon! Thanks so much for the feedback!_

_**Kumori Gem: **__Alicia will get what's coming to her from Freddie eventually, you can count on that. She just needs to push her a little further... thanks for the feedback!_

_**Wiatch:**__ Thank you, lovely! Absolutely, I will! I read your update awhile ago, and my computer froze when I tried to review && my stupid self forgot to go back and try again! I'll do it now!_

_**Harlequincabaret:**__ Thanks so much for reading and reviewing! Ollie is a complete doll, but I know what you mean. There is just something about George ;)_

_**Spannieren:**__ Thanks so so much! I'm glad you liked the gift excgange!_

_**Shadowrunner240: **__Thank you so much, and woooo to Merlin and Arthur and Morgana!_

_**TehGeekasaur: **__Thanks! I like Kates and Ang way to much to let them be bints lol. I'm glad you liked the Murderin' McKinnon bit, and thanks so much for all the wonderful comments! I appreciate it :)_

_**DarkAngelNeko666: **__Thanks so much for reviewing! I adore new readers :)_

_**Whisperintherain:**__ Thank you so much! I love her too :)_


	13. Chapter 13: The Funniest Joke

_**Chapter Thirteen**_

_The Funniest Joke_

–

_Courage is not the absence of fear, but rather the judgment  
that something else is more important than fear. _

–

The remaining days of our brief Christmas holiday passed by before the blink of an eye. I returned to Hogwarts a pound or two heavier from all the treats Molly had shoved down my throat, and I also returned with an eerie feeling in my gut whenever I was around George. I began noticing things about him that I had never paid any mind to before. He looked at me out of the corner of his eye when I turned away, he suddenly began to offer to carry my things for me when before he would have tossed his own bag atop mine, and he started blushing when I would tease him or when our skin would touch. The way he smiled at me changed, it was different than the way Fred did it. Yes, George's eyes seemed to be keeping a secret that his grin was only beginning to tell. I ignored it, believing it to all be in my head. I was also imagining in that crazy head of mine the bright shade of blue his eyes seemed to flash when he laughed, or how this one freckle on his left earlobe resembled a heart, or how insufferably adorable it was when he blew a straggly piece of red hair from his eyes, or the fact that the right side of his mouth curled up just the slightest bit higher than the left when he smiled.

I pushed all of my nonsensical thoughts away, however, as soon as I laid eyes on Oliver after being away from him for two weeks. The twins had ran upstairs to greet Lee as soon as we returned to the Gryffindor common room, but I only pretended to retreat upstairs beside Ginny. I only got about two steps upstairs before I slyly scurried back downstairs to see Oliver whom had been eyeing me over his book the moment I stepped inside the portrait hole that unfortunately still occupied Sir Cadogen. I dropped my bag beside the coffee table and plopped down beside him on the ancient maroon sofa. Both of us looked around wearily for anyone in eye or earshot, before deciding it was safe to exchange a quick kiss.

"I missed you," I said in an almost relieved tone. "How was your holiday?"

"Rather dull," he shrugged, closing his book of Quidditch strategies in his lap. "I've told you how my Mother and Father are, more concerned with work than anything else. I spent my Christmas Eve shaking hands with Cornelius Fudge and loads of other intolerable Ministry bigwigs."

"How did your Mum and Dad talk you into going to something like that, especially on the night before Christmas?" I inquired.

"Well, it's hard not to attend something held at your own house," he frowned. "It's a tradition, my parents invite all their Ministry allies to the Manor for this elegant gathering. It's completely miserable."

I had begun to understand Oliver's Quidditch obsession the more I understood where he came from exactly. His parents were much older and had always been obsessed with their work. His father had always been one of the highest ranking Ministry members, the Director of something or other, and his mother was the Chief Healer at St. Mungos. To say they were a well-to-do family would be a severe understatement. I concluded that Oliver's need to be the absolute best at his craft was due to his subconscious desire to attract his parents' attention. He felt that he had to be as successful in whatever he chose to take on as humanly possible. To Oliver, to earn his parents' affections, he had to be perfect in Quidditch and his key to that was winning the Cup for Gryffindor.

"But what about you," he began, "anything interesting happen over your break?"

"Uh—" I started, contemplating my answer, "not really, dyed Percy's hair against his will, the usual."

"Sounds utterly uneventful," he smirked sarcastically, "Did you get any good gifts?"

"Actually I did," I smiled, remembering my photo album fondly. "George gave me this photo album that is without a doubt the most brilliant thing I have ever seen. He managed to put in pictures of the the lot of us from our childhood and such, but what made it so special was the fact that he wrote my parents' old friends and collected old photos that I didn't even know existed. I guess he'd been working on it for years. It was incredibly thoughtful. I mean, _he_ is thoughtful."

"Oh," was all Oliver managed to say, eyeing my suspiciously. "That—"

We were interrupted from continuing our conversation by Harry and Ron who followed one another through the portrait hole. Oliver and I instantly took to our feet to avoid appearing suspicious though I'm sure our abrupt simultaneous stand was more suspicious than anything. I decided hugging Ron would be a good way to sidestep any odd looks from the two best mates.

"Ronniekins," I beamed, opening my arms wide and intentionally pulling him way too tight against me so his reddening cheeks became squished against my shoulder. "Oh, how I missed you so! Christmas just wasn't the same without you! Thanks for the disappearing ink, by the way. I've been wanting some for ages."

"Don't mention it, Freddie," he blushed, shrugging coyly, "Thanks for all the sweets. You're going to make me as plump as Millicent Bulstrode."

"I hope it makes you as handsome as she is as well," I teased, ruffling his hair before he chuckled and struggled to straighten his red locks again.

I knew Oliver was determined to see how Harry was feeling. You know, checking up on his most important player.

"Had a good Christmas?" asked Oliver, and then, without waiting for an answer, lowered his voice, and said, "I've been, doing some thinking over Christmas, Harry. After last match, you know. If the Dementors come to the next one… I mean… we can't afford you to —well—"

"Oliver!" I objected, elbowing him in the side and sending him a disapproving glare. Wood broke off, looking awkward now.

"I'm working on it," said Harry quickly. "Professor Lupin said he'd train me to ward off the Dementors. We should be starting this week. He said he'd have time after Christmas."

"Ah," said Wood, his expression mocking me for thinking he was insulting Harry or something. "Well, in that case — I really didn't want to lose you as Seeker, Harry. And have you ordered a new broom yet?"

"No," said Harry.

"What! You'd better get a move on, you know," Oliver exclaimed. "You can't ride that Shooting Star against Ravenclaw!"

"Merlin, Oliver, calm down," I sighed heavily as if I was his mother. "Don't get your knickers all up in a bunch."

"He got a Firebolt for Christmas," said Ron.

"A _Firebolt_? No! Seriously?" Oliver gasped.

"A — a real _Firebolt_?" I breathed, suddenly intrigued.

"Don't get too excited, you two," said Harry gloomily. "I haven't got it anymore. It was confiscated." And he explained all about how the Firebolt was now being checked for jinxes.

"Jinxed? How could it be jinxed?" I asked.

"Sirius Black," Harry said wearily. "He's supposed to be after me. So McGonagall reckons he might have sent it."

Waving aside the information that a famous murderer was after his Seeker, Wood said, "But Black couldn't have bought a Firebolt! He's on the run! The whole country's on the lookout for him! How could he just walk into Quality Quidditch Supplies and buy a broomstick?"

"I know," said Harry, "but McGonagall still wants to strip it down—"

Oliver went pale.

"I am so glad the idea of skinning a bleeding broomstick makes you lose your color, but the thought of Sirius Black skinning Harry can be so easily overlooked, Ollie," I frowned, slightly humored.

"I'll go and talk to her, Harry," he promised, looking at me while he addressed Harry. "I'll make her see reason… A Firebolt… a real Firebolt, on our team… She wants Gryffindor to win as much as we do… I'll make her see sense. A _Firebolt…" _

"Has anyone ever told you that you can be a Quidditch-obsessed git?" I teased, nudging him with my hip.

"Yeah," he smirked, "you."

–

Ravenclaw played Slytherin a week after the start of term. Slytherin won, though narrowly. According to Oliver, this was good news for Gryffindor, because we would take second place if we managed to beat Ravenclaw too. He therefore increased the number of team practices to five a week, even after I offered an extra heavy snogging session in exchange for erasing one of those schedules practices as leverage. It was official, Oliver would rather snog a Quaffle than snog a girl.

January faded imperceptibly into February, with no change in the bitterly cold weather. The match against Ravenclaw was drawing nearer and nearer, everyone was on edge, especially my eejit boyfriend.

–

The twins and I sat huddled over several of the brief outlines of some of our inventions. We were aware that we were not alone, certain to look over our shoulder and check for eavesdroppers every few minutes. I was in the very early stages of creating this Patented Daydream Charm that would allow the buyer to experience no less than a 30 minute virtually undetectable, highly realistic daydream. It was one of my new _Wonder Witch_ creations, a name I had deemed myself that the twins thought sounded moronic, though I thought _Weasley Wizard Wheezes_ sounded just as idiotic.

We'd decided over the last few weeks that it didn't make any sense to keep creating all of our ever so lovely inventions when we just kept them to ourselves. Why wouldn't we just start our own sort of business and make a galleon or two in the process? We'd start off selling our products to friends and fellow peers, move on to a sort of mail order business, and god forbid we ever attained the initiative to open our own store, only time would tell.

"No, I've told you a thousand times," I sighed in an annoyed huff, extending my arm to scribble on the parchment before Fred, "the feathers won't disintegrate after the cream wears off unless you add more Sparking Snail Shells. There is no worthy substitute! We have to have Sparkling Snail Shells, stupid!"

"Say that ten times fast," George muttered under his breath, smiling to himself.

"Well, Miss Know-It-All, if you're the expert then you figure out how we are going to get our hands on Sparkling Snail Shells when they cost two Galleons a dozen," Fred retorted. "We can't afford to have to raise the price of a Canary Cream to—"

"If we lessen the length the spell lasts then we can make the ingredient go much further," I explained. "We'd be doubling our profits if you listen to me."

"We'd be bankrupt if we—" started Fred.

"I agree with Winnie, Fred," said George suddenly.

"You do?" Fred and I said in synch with matching upward inflections and expressions of surprise.

"Yeah," he shrugged, sort of surprised it had come out of his mouth. "She's always been better in Arithmancy than we have. I think we should trust her judgment."

Fred looked shell-shocked. I fought off the urge to drop my jaw. I was rubbish in Arithmancy, and he knew that. Why was he being so nice? He'd been rather odd towards me lately, and I sort of liked it.

"Thanks, George," I smiled, genuinely grateful.

"Don't mention it, Freddie," he smiled, locking eyes with me for a long minute.

Fred looked at us with a bewildered expression, his jaw dropped to the floor. He snapped his fingers before the foot or two between George and I to break our unofficial staring contest.

"Hello?" said Fred. "Are you two going to get lost in each others' eye all night, or are we going to be able to move on to discussing why our last batch of Fever Fudge was way too strong?"

"Shut up, Fred, whatever," I muttered, blushing and becoming suddenly infatuated with doodling on my parchment. "You were the one who put too much Toad Tonic in it."

"Don't you dare blame me," he objected. "I told you to add another Lizard Gizzard to make up for it, but you bloody well forgot because you insisted on skipping out early again to wherever you've been sneaking off to lately."

"I had to make a run to the library to return a book," I spat. "I told you that a million times. I haven't been sneaking off a lot lately, you're imagining things."

"—am not—"

"—are to—"

"—am not—"

"—are to—"

"—am not—"

"—are to—"

"Merlin, will you two give it a rest already?" George sighed. "You're giving me a bleeding headache and we've only been down here for twenty minutes."

"New record," Fred and I grinned proudly in unison, peering over at each other and exchanging a high-five.

"Well, you lot can celebrate your victory while I go up and grab the defective box of Fever Fudge," said George, getting to his feet. "There's no use debating what's really wrong with them if we don't examine them firsthand."

"Yeah, alright," said Fred.

My eyes lingered on George as he walked up the staircase before drawing my gaze back to one of the pieces of parchment from before and began reading it over again for several minutes before I realized Fred had been staring at me with this look of deep thought upon his face.

"What?" I inquired wearily, slowly lowering my parchment and raising a curious brow.

"You know, I feel like Percy at a party," he began, gauging my confused reaction before continuing, "unwelcome, confused, and out of the loop."

"You're always those three things," I smirked, raising my readings before my face again.

"Not when I'm around you two," he went on, "but I think I'm beginning to know why I am now."

"You know I don't like this game, Fred," I frowned while trying to concentrate on my recipe alterations, realizing he was just teasing me. "Either spit it out or—"

"There's something between you and George, isn't there?" he whispered.

I froze, my fingers grasping the parchment so tight that the corners ripped. I lowered the page so slowly it probably looked utterly bizarre. I eyed him as if he was insane.

"What is this _something_ between _me and George_, exactly?"

"You know what," he said.

"The only something between me and George is a load of hot air," I said, rolling my eyes, "provided by you at the moment. I have no idea what you're implying."

"Don't play dumb with me, _Winifred McKinnon_," Fred smiled arrogantly, crossing his arms over his chest and leaning back in his chair. "I'm not blind, I know what's going on. I've noticed you two have been real buddy-buddy—"

"He's my best friend," I spat, "and so are you. I treat you exactly the same."

"Maybe up until a year or so ago but not anymore," said Fred. "I see the way you two look at each other. You practically snog each other with your eyes."

"Bullocks," I objected.

"Listen, Freddie, I know George better than anyone, even you, and I can tell when he has feel—"

"What are you lot talking about?" asked George, suddenly reappearing with the defected box of Fever Fudge. He looked completely unaware of the conversation Fred and I were having.

"Nothing," I replied curtly, glaring at Fred to keep his mouth shut, "Fred was just telling me the funniest joke I have ever heard."

Fred frowned, and looked away reluctantly. I knew he wanted to speak up, but I also knew he wouldn't dare cross me over something I was passionately opposed to addressing. He'd earned a dozen or more black eyes over the years that way. George sat down, none the wiser to what our conversation had just entailed. I tried to brush off Fred's words because he didn't have the chance to finish his sentence and I was going to convince myself that whatever he was trying to say was not what it sounded like. However, I was more determined to avoid thinking of the chat ever again.

_I know George better than anyone, even you, and I can tell when he has feel—_

–

"Okay, side with Ron, I knew you would!" said Hermione shrilly. "First the Firebolt, now Scabbers, everything's my fault, isn't it! Just leave me alone, Harry, I've got a lot of work to do!"

The twins and I were gathering our papers off the coffee table in the common room when we heard the golden trio followed by Ginny, stomping in through the portrait hole. Apparently Crookshanks had killed Scabbers the night before, and Ron had taken the loss of his rat very hard indeed. We hadn't heard the end of it all day.

"Come on, Ron, you were always saying how boring Scabbers was," said Fred bracingly, folding his parchment in half without looking up. "And he's been off-color for ages, he was wasting away. It was probably better for him to snuff it quickly — one swallow — he probably didn't feel a thing."

"_Fred_!" Ginny and I said indignantly. I elbowed him hard in the side and caused him to grunt in pain, Ginny took the pacifist route.

"All he did was eat and sleep, Ron, you said it yourself," said George in a much more gentle tone, stuffing one of my heavy books in my messenger bag for me.

"He bit Goyle for us once!" Ron said miserably. "Remember, Harry?"

"Yeah, that's true," said Harry.

"His finest hour," said Fred, unable to keep a straight face and I had to admit I almost joined him. "Let the scar on Goyle's finger stand as a lasting tribute to his memory. Oh, come on, Ron, get yourself down to Hogsmeade and buy a new rat, what's the point of moaning?"

"I'll even buy it for you, Ronnie, as an early birthday present," I said kindly. "Hell, get a cat instead, pick out a mongrel the size of Fang to avenge Scabbers's death."

Hermione left out a _humph_, and I proceeded to shrug helplessly.

"Sorry, Hermione," I smiled innocently. "I wasn't implying Ron get a cat that would kill Crookshanks, just claw his bleeding eyes out."

Ron snorted a laugh.

"You know, I can't understand why no one is addressing the fact that it is just nature for a cat to want to hunt rats," said Hermione. "Crookshanks was just being a cat."

"Yeah, well, May's a cat too and you don't see her wreaking havoc on other people's pets," Ron spat. "And it's not just pets, I have claw marks up and down my legs from that bloody beast—"

"Oh, just forget it," she sighed furiously, flailing her arms up in the air as she stomped off towards the girls' staircase.

"Hermione, come back—" I began, taking a step forward, suddenly feeling guilty.

"I'll go and talk to her," said Ginny, jogging after her.

I was rubbish with words. It was embarrassing how dreadful I was in serious situations that called for kind words. It was rare for me to spot off inspirational words. I typically cracked a sarcastic joke and ended up hurting someone's feelings or making the situation so awkward that it was unbearable. I knew Hermione was never very fond of me (or the twins for that matter), and I could hardly blame her. Our personalities clashed like peanut butter and ketchup. She was a considerate, subordinate bookworm, and I was an obnoxious, insubordinate goofball. We'd never really fought or anything, but I wasn't blind to her attempts to avoid me on several occasions when she would come to the Burrow to visit. I guess I'd just dug myself a deeper hole.

–

Oliver's fingers zealously combed through my long, raven locks. I gripped his sweatshirt tightly, gently biting his lower lip in the heat of the moment. His hand slid down and pressed softly against the lower crook of my spine, arching my back. I released his apparel and lazily raised my arms around his neck, standing on the very tips of my toes to press my lips and hard against his as humanly possible. The seventh floor corridor had become a great spot to sneak in a quick snog session in between classes. It was filled with empty classroom and barely anyone used the corridor as a pathway to reach their next classes. It was also darker than most other hallways which allowed us more privacy and opportunity to hide our identities. Oliver pulled his lips away from mine and began kissing my collar bone sweetly, tightening every muscle in my neck as I leaned my head to the side and closed my eyes with pleasure.

"Better than Quidditch?" I whispered passionately, unable to avoid my desire to crack a joke.

Oliver pulled away and sloppily leaned in and pressed his lips against mine again, hard.

"Better than Quidditch," he said in a raspy voice while he separated his mouth from mine for a quick second, his breaths wildly irregular.

Finally, after several more breathlessly intense moments we broke apart. I dangled my arms over his shoulders while he laced his fingers together behind my back, our eyes locked.

"I think you're a bad influence on me," I smirked, rubbing my thumb under his ear affectionately.

"That's a first," he chuckled lightly.

"Why, Oliver Ian Wood, I have never once done anything less than completely reputable," I teased, grinning seductively up at him. "I have no idea where you are getting this nonsense about me being a troublemaker."

"I think those six dozen detentions you've served since the start of the year could probably be seen as some decent evidentiary support," he smirked, leaning down so his forehead rested atop my own.

"I was framed, wrongly accused," I smiled. "I am really a model student."

"So if I were to pat you down right now I wouldn't find a single Dungbomb or any other illicit contraband?" he joked.

"Frisk me and find out," I said intimately, tugging on his tie to bring his lips down to mine again.

I peeled open one of my eyes mid-kiss, peeking over Oliver's shoulder. I swear on my life I saw a shadow pass by. However, after opening my other eye I saw nothing. I was really becoming paranoid. Smiling against his lips, I allowed myself to be overwhelmed with the musk and pleasant heat that radiated from Oliver's skin once again. Fred was off his rocker. George was completely out of my mind when I was with Oliver... though I admittedly couldn't claim the same when we were separated.

–

I met the others for our last dinner before our match against Ravenclaw a few hours after my little meeting with Oliver. I'd met up with him again to watch him sketch Quidditch strategies up in the Clock Tower after Divination, but told Angelina and Alicia I was stopping by the library instead. They bought my excuse, and now I was starving, hurrying to claim my seat between the twins and directly across from Angelina as I usually did. A plate of chicken, mashed potatoes, and broccoli appeared before me along with a goblet of pumpkin juice. I smiled and nodded to the others before tucking into my supper.

"Slow down," Fred teased me, "or you'll be as big as Goyle."

"Shove off," I smirked, taking another bite of mashed potatoes.

"You already have his temperament apparently," George chuckled, sipping on his pumpkin juice.

"You know—"

"SHUT UP!" Katie hissed giddily from across the table, clasping her hands together as she and Alicia turned to face each other. I looked up from my meal momentarily, but returned as soon as concluded it must be something idiotic and gossip related.

"What?" asked Angelina, setting down her goblet and turning to the two girls to her right.

"Oh, nothing, Alicia just has the juiciest gossip in the world is all," said Katie, grinning like a Cheshire cat.

I rolled my eyes and swallowed a gulp of juice.

"Indulge us," said Angelina, sounding indifferent to the subject.

"I saw Oliver Wood with a girl when I was on my way to Muggle Studies today," said Alicia excitedly.

A piece of chicken became caught in my throat, and I began choking. I grabbed my throat, my eyes suddenly locked upon Alicia as I coughed wildly. George eyes me curiously, slapping my back as if to help me dislodge my bite of food.

"So what?" asked Lee, returning to his meal. "We're around you four girls all the time, it's no big deal, we're friends."

"Four? Oh, yeah, I forgot Winnie counts," said Alicia coolly, and if I wasn't struggling to breathe I would have sent her a nasty glare. Fred and George's looks substituted my lack of one, however. "But, anyway, I doubt you snog your friends, Lee."

"What?" Lee asked, suddenly intrigued.

"Yeah, I was cutting through the seventh floor corridor to get to class," said Alicia, genuinely enjoying the attention she was receiving from her story, "and I was passing by a dark, abandoned classroom when I saw him. The door was cracked, and there he was, sucking face with some girl."

"Are you sure it a girl and not a Quaffle propped up on a broomstick?" George laughed, nudging Fred and I in jest and receiving a laugh from his twin. I finally managed to swallow the glob of poultry that was clogging my airway, and I nearly knocked over my goblet when I reached out desperately for a drink. Angelina's eyes were glued upon me, her expression as uneasy as mine.

"Did you see who it was?" asked Lee.

"No, I wish," she replied despondently, "it was too dark."

"I can't believe it," smirked Fred, "Oliver Wood of all people, sneaking off for a snog session with a girl."

"How is it unbelievable?" Katie blushed. "I mean, he's arguably the best looking bloke in the whole school... besides Cedric Diggory of course."

She and Alicia began giggling and holding each others hands tightly, bouncing up and down slightly in their seats at the thought of Cedric Diggory.

"Freddie!" Angelina burst out suddenly. "I just realized I haven't started my Divination essay. Could you come help me right quick?"

"It's Friday night," said George, raising a suspicious brow.

"And that essay isn't even due until the end of next week," said Alicia, pausing from her moronic display.

"Well, just because you lot are a bunch of procrastinators doesn't mean I have to be," said Angelina anxiously, getting to her feet quickly and nodding for me to join her. I awkwardly swung my leg over the wooden bench and nearly had to jog to keep up with her strides on the other side of the table until we reached the large open doors. The other five mates stared on at us like we had lost our marbles.

As soon as we turned the corner outside the Great Hall, Angelina grabbed onto my arm and yanked me into the same nook that Oliver and I had hid in the night I had first taken him to see the kitchens in the beginning of the year. Her face looked erratic and fretful, while I probably appeared like frightened student about to receive punishment. She towered over me by a few inches and I backed up so my spine rested upon the stone wall behind me.

"You do realize how lucky you are that Alicia didn't see your face, don't you?" she hissed.

"Of course I do," I whispered back fiercely. "I thought I saw someone snooping around—"

"I cannot believe you _still_ haven't told anyone," she snapped in a disapproving tone. "This entire situation is so messed up, Winnie, and you know it. You're being a rotten friend to Fred and George. This has gone on far too long. What are you think—"

"I know," I conceded. "I know I am, this isn't me. It's just— it's just, in the beginning I didn't want to tell them because I didn't know if anything would come of Oliver and I so I wanted to try to keep things on the down low until I knew either way. Then I didn't want to speak up a couple months after that because things were going so well that I didn't want to jinx it by letting any outside interferences compromise our relationship. And now—"

"And now, what?" she snapped.

"And now, I've missed my window," I frowned, disgusted with myself. "Now if I tell them they're going to be furious that I took this long for me to confess."

"So what are you going to do?" asked Angelina. "I mean Fred and George can be pretty thick, but I think they'll catch on somewhere in the future when you're wearing a wedding ring and randomly show up pregnant. Then what are you going to tell them?"

"I ate a big lunch?" I smirked, shrugging innocently before Angelina placed her hands on her hips and sent me a warning glare. "I'm only joking, Angie, calm down. I'll tell them before the term is over, and I definitely think you're counting chicks before they're hatched when it comes to Oliver and I... literally."

"So just add on a couple more months to your tally, then?" she replied, displeased with my answer. "The longer you wait, the more furious they'll be with you."

"I know, Angelina, I'm not stupid," I frowned, growing annoyed with her bombardment of questions. "I'll just sit them down on my terms and explain everything. The last thing I would ever want to do is hurt them."

"That's inevitable now, Winnie," said Angelina in a more gentile voice.

"Just let me handle it, Ang," I sighed. "I've got myself into this, and I'll get myself out... no matter what that entails."

–

At a quarter to eleven, the Gryffindor team set off for the locker rooms. The weather couldn't have been more different from the match against Hufflepuff. It was a clear, cool day with a very light breeze; there would be no visibility problems this time, the lot of us, though nervous, were starting to feel the excitement only a Quidditch match could bring. We could hear the rest of the school moving into the stadium beyond. I took off my jeans, removed my wand from my pocket, and stuck it inside the Irish Quidditch T-shirt I was going to wear under my Quidditch robes.

"You know what we've got to do," said Wood as we prepared to leave the locker rooms. "If we lose this match, we're out of the running, just — just fly like you did in practice yesterday, and we'll be okay!"

We walked out onto the field to tumultuous applause. The Ravenclaw team, dressed in blue, were already standing in the middle of the field. Their Seeker, Cho Chang, was the only girl on their team which was actually a rather common trend among the other three teams. Our squad was the only team that had more than two females. Cho was shorter than Harry by about a head, and quite pretty. She smiled at Harry as the teams faced each other behind our captains, and I noticed his face turn a bit red which I don't think had anything to do with nerves.

"Wood, Davies, shake hands," Madam Hooch said briskly, and Oliver shook hands with the Ravenclaw Captain.

"Mount your brooms… on my whistle… three — two — one —"

I kicked off into the air beside my teammates but Harry's Firebolt zoomed higher and faster than any other broom. I smirked at him as he seemed to enjoy the feeling of the broom beneath his bum. I caught the Quaffle from Kates and zoomed by the largest Ravenclaw Chaser, my Nimbus 2001 was too quick for his Cleansweep not to mention my lesser weight must have added to my advantage as well. I threw the Quaffle as hard as I could towards the outer goal, but the Ravenclaw Keeper kicked it back to his teammate at the last second. I cursed under my breath, immediately chasing after the bloke with the Quaffle all the while listening to the commentary, which was being provided by the ever professional Lee Jordan.

"They're off, and the big excitement this match is the Firebolt that Harry Potter is flying for Gryffindor. According to _Which Broomstick_, the Firebolt's going to be the broom of choice for the national teams at this year's World Championship—"

"Jordan, would you mind telling us what's going on in the match?" interrupted Professor McGonagall's voice.

"Right you are, Professor — just giving a bit of background information — the Firebolt, incidentally, has a built-in auto-brake and —"

"Jordan!"

"Okay, okay, Gryffindor in possession, Katie Bell of Gryffindor, heading for goal, passes to Angelina Johnson who strategically kicks it to Freddie— er— I mean, _Winnie_ McKinnon who... SCORES! Gryffindor leads ten points to zero! WAY TO GO FREDDIE!"

"Jordan, at least attempt to remain unbiased!"

The Gryffindor side of the pitch went wild as the three of us teamed our first goal of the match. I had thrown the Quaffle through the left outer goal, pumping my fist for a quick second as I zoomed towards the opposite end of the pitch to play defense. Harry must have caught sight of the Snitch because I spotted Cho Chang following close after him as he streaked through the air above us.

"Show her your acceleration, Harry!" I heard Fred yell as he whooshed past in pursuit of a Bludger that was aiming for Angelina.

Harry dived; Cho saw what he was doing and tore after him — Harry was speeding up, excitement flooding him; dives were his specialty, he was ten feet away— Then a Bludger, hit by one of the Ravenclaw Beaters, came pelting out of nowhere; Harry veered off course, avoiding it by an inch, and in those few, crucial seconds, the Snitch had vanished from sight.

There was a great "Ooooooh" of disappointment from the Gryffindor supporters, but much applause for the Beater from the Ravenclaw end. George vented his feelings by hitting the second Bludger directly at the offending Beater, who was forced to roll right over in midair to avoid it.

"Aim for the Chasers, you git!" I shouted at him. "Quit acting like a temperamental two year old and do your job!"

"Sod off and mind your own business!" George yelled back at me as I zoomed purposely close to him to send him a teasing wink before nudging Davies off his beaten path and knocking the Quaffle into Angelina's capable hands who passed to Katie who proceeded to score.

"Gryffindor leads by eighty points to zero thanks to the trio of Bell, Johnson, and McKinnon, but now look at Potter's Firebolt go! He's really putting it through its paces now, see it turn — Chang's Comet is just no match for it, the Firebolt's precision — balance is really noticeable in these long —"

"JORDAN! ARE YOU BEING PAID TO ADVERTISE FIREBOLTS? GET ON WITH THE COMMENTARY!"

Ravenclaw was coming back; they had now scored three goals, which put Gryffindor only fifty points ahead — if Cho got the Snitch before Harry, Ravenclaw would win. I intended on giving us a sixty point lead as I flew swiftly towards the Ravenclaw Keeper before a Bludger came out of no where and hit the rear of my broom, sending me into a tailspin. I may have been able to recover before hitting the ground, but the Quaffle had been successfully intercepted by Roger Davies in response. I zoomed upwards, glaring at Fred as I tried to catch up to the Ravenclaw Captain. I shouted words I wouldn't dare repeat in front of Molly to the negligent Beater.

I saw Harry drop lower, narrowly avoiding a Ravenclaw Chaser I had out flown before, scanning the field frantically the Snitch was circling the Gryffindor goal post. Harry accelerated, eyes fixed on the speck of gold ahead, but just then, Cho appeared out of thin air, blocking him.

"HARRY, THIS IS NO TIME TO BE A GENTLEMAN!" Oliver roared as Harry swerved to avoid a collision. "KNOCK HER OFF HER BROOM IF YOU HAVE TO!"

He dived again, and Cho, thinking he'd seen the Snitch, tried to follow; Harry pulled out of the dive very sharply; she hurtled downward; he rose fast as a bullet once more, and then saw it, for the third time — the Snitch was glittering way above the field at the Ravenclaw end. I was impressed, the Firebolt couldn't take credit for Harry's impressive tactics. He accelerated; so, many feet below, did Cho. He was winning, gaining on the Snitch with every second.

I was so busy catching a pass from Kates that I didn't even notice the eye-catching display below. However, when

something silver-white, something enormous, erupted from the end of Harry's wand my eyes were drawn to the scene that everyone else was watching. Harry had fired a spell at three rather odd looking Dementors that were striding upon the pitch. It had apparently succeeded in preventing the negative effects that usually accompanied the Dementors presence because he stretched out the hand still grasping his wand and just managed to close his fingers over the small, struggling Snitch.

Madam Hooch's whistle sounded, and I can't recall my actions from my broom to the ground by I remember the whole team was hugging Harry so hard that we nearly suffocated him. All around us, we could hear the roars of the Gryffindors in the crowd.

"That's my boy!" Wood kept yelling. Me, Angelina, and Katie had all kissed Harry; Fred had him in a grip so tight I'm sure Harry felt as though his head would come off because I'd felt the same embrace before. We looked up to see a gaggle of Gryffindor supporters sprinting onto the field, Ron in the lead. Before we knew it, he had been engulfed by the cheering crowd. I pushed through the countless congratulatory pats on the back and hugs to find Oliver. The crowd allowed enough room for us to embrace momentarily, a hug that appeared completely platonic. Oliver's face was positively glowing. I'd never seen him so happy, and I couldn't imagine his response if and when we won the Quidditch Cup. A ruckus of laughs began to ring out, directing our attention towards a crumpled heap on the ground were that was Draco Malfoy, Crabbe, Goyle, Montague, and Marcus Flint, who were all struggling to remove themselves from long, black, hooded robes. It looked as though Malfoy had been standing on Goyle's shoulders. Standing over them, with an expression of the utmost fury on her face, was Professor McGonagall. I knew that face, and I knew they were in for the lecture of a lifetime.

"An unworthy trick!" she was shouting. "A low and cowardly attempt to sabotage the Gryffindor Seeker! Detention for all of you, and fifty points from Slytherin! I shall be speaking to Professor Dumbledore about this, make no mistake! Ah, here he comes now!"

If anything could have set the seal on Gryffindor's victory, it was this. Ron, who had fought his way through to Harry's side, doubled up with laughter as they watched Malfoy fighting to extricate himself from the robe, Goyle's head still stuck inside it. Oliver was pulled away from me by dozens of cheering fans as I felt Fred and George grasp onto my arms.

"Come on, everyone!" said George, fighting his way over. "Party! Gryffindor common room, now!"

"Right," said Harry as he and the rest of our team led the way, still in our scarlet robes, out of the stadium and back up to the castle.

It felt as though we had already won the Quidditch Cup; the party went on all day and well into the night. Fred, George, and I returned with armfuls of bottles of butterbeer, pumpkin fizz, and several bags full of Honeydukes sweets that we had stashed away from an illegal trip just days prior in expectation of tonight's festivities.

I could dance about like a fool with Oliver and because everyone was so engulfed with the euphoria from the win that no one saw it to be out of the ordinary. Hell, I even spotted George giving Alicia a romp on the dance floor that she undoubtedly begged him for. The music blared and everyone in the common room began flailing about in this joyful congregation. Oliver took my hand and spun me about, almost losing my balance when I came to a sudden halt outside the large mob of people. I thought everyone was having a great time, but I then realized that was not the truth.

Only one person wasn't joining in the party. Hermione, incredibly, was sitting in a corner, attempting to read an enormous book entitled _Home Life and Social Habits of American Muggles_. I broke away from the table where Fred and George had started juggling butterbeer bottles and went over to her. Hermione had still been sort of sore at me since I'd made the whole Ron buying a cat to kill hers comment.

"Did you come to the match?" I asked her.

"Of course I did," said Hermione in a strangely high-pitched voice, not looking up. "And I'm very glad we won, and I think you all did really well, but I need to read this by Monday."

"Come on, Hermione, come and have some food," I said, looking over at Ron and wondering whether he was in a good enough mood to bury the hatchet and not in her skull.

"I can't, Winnie. I've still got four hundred and twenty-two pages to read!" said Hermione, now sounding slightly hysterical. "Anyway…" She glanced over at Ron too. "He doesn't want me to join in."

There was no arguing with this, as Ron chose that moment to say loudly, "If Scabbers hadn't just been _eaten_, he could have had some of those Fudge Flies. He used to really like them—"

Hermione burst into tears which made me immensely uncomfortable. I never handled crying well because I could never empathize with those who did it. I, quite literally, had not shed a tear since I was three. My tear ducts weren't busted, my eyes had watered in pain or when I had something in my eye, and it wasn't because I'd never been upset enough to do it between then and now. However, when I felt like I needed to cry no tears were ever released no matter how hard I tried. Maybe it was because I knew I would never suffer a loss as great as my Mum, and I felt like crying for any other reason was silly. I don't really know.

"Sod off, Ron," I said loudly to him, stepping in front of the sobbing Hermione so he wouldn't see how upset he had successfully made her. "It's a party, and all you're doing is talking about the bloody rat. Get over yourself."

"No," said Ron flatly. "If she just acted like she was sorry — but she'll never admit she's wrong, Hermione. She's still acting like Scabbers has gone on vacation or something."

Hermione started crying harder as Ron turned back to Seamus. She closed her book and stood to run up to the girls' dormitory, but I took a firm hold of her elbow and led her swiftly just out of sight up the stairwell to prevent her from going all the way upstairs. I motioned for her to sit down as the music roared louder below. Hermione wiped away some of her tears with the back of her sleeve and sniffled to unsuccessfully stifle her sobs. I gently placed my hand upon her forearm that rested upon her bent leg and sent her a reassuring look.

"Why are you being so nice to me?" she asked wearily.

"Me? I'm always nice," I replied lightheartedly.

"You're always sarcastic or joking around," she said, rubbing her nose again. "How do I know you're not just playing a prank on me right now?"

"Because I'm not," I said simply, no jest in my tone. "When I see someone left out of the fun then I always have to take it upon myself to cheer them up... er— besides Percy, of course."

"Well, it's nice of you to try but it's no use, Winnie," said Hermione sadly. "I've been ostracized from my friends and there is no way for me to redeem myself. I can't bring Scabbers back from the grave and Ron will never forgive me."

"Ron is a git," I smirked. "Don't get me wrong, I can't stand that ruddy mongrel that you call a cat —no offense— and I was definitely not opposed to knocking down Crookshanks's lives down from nine to eight initially, but Ron has taken this whole grudge too far."

"I didn't want Scabbers dead!" she said, her eyes shedding heavy tears again. "He acts like I hired Crookshanks to assassinate him or something."

"Well, that would be bloody brilliant of you could train your cat to do that," I joked, earning a brief smile from my younger female counterpart. "But Ron is just dealing with Scabbers's death by finding someone who is still alive to blame and considering Crookshanks can't talk back that just leaves you. He'll get over it soon enough though, I accidentally broke his first broomstick when we were kids and I thought he would never forgive me. Well, clearly he doesn't hate me all that much anymore, just give him time and he'll forget this whole mishap ever happened. I promise... and if he doesn't... I'll beat him to a bleeding pulp until he can't help but forget it."

"Thanks, Winnie," said Hermione, smiling weakly up at me, wiping away the remainder of her tears.

"Don't mention it," I smiled, pinching her cheek humorously. "Now come back and join the party, will you?"

"I don't know," she sighed. "I really just need t—"

"I'll get Fred and George to slip Ron a Canary Cream," I said, trying to sweeten the deal.

"Well, maybe I could put off my reading for an hour or two," she smiled feebly, taking to her feet slowly and apprehensively following me to the twins sides who were still juggling butterbeer bottles.

–

The Gryffindor party ended only when Professor McGonagall turned up in her tartan dressing gown and hair net at one in the morning, to insist that we all go to bed. Everyone seemed to lose their previous energy as soon as the music came to a halt. The treats that we had distributed to everyone had not gone unenjoyed. Many empty bottles decorated the floor as everyone departed up the staircases. I knew McGonagall would be furious if the common room was left in the state it was left in, so I remained behind to tidy up a bit. After changing out of my grungy Quidditch robes and into my pajamas, I returned to lower level to pick up some of the mess we all made. I was surprised when I realized I was not alone in the dark common room.

"George?" I yawned, stretching my arms over my head and feeling a cold breeze against my bare stomach as my T-shirt rose up until I brought my arms back to my side. "What are you doing?"

"The same as you, I wager," he smirked, squatting down to shove an empty bottle of Pumpkin Fizz in a garbage bag. "I'd prefer not having to experience the screeches of Minerva McGonagall as my alarm clock again."

"Well, at least you're guaranteed not to sleep through that wake-up call," I smirked, descending the final steps and picking up the other garbage bag he had sitting out.

"Sounds like a pair of banshees mating, it does," George scoffed. "Did you hear her shouting at Lee today?"

"How could I not?" I smirked. "The woman's voice carries more than Lee's over the bleeding megaphone. I bet she would have deafened the entire stadium with her screams of joy from the win if Montague, Malfoy, and those prats wouldn't have distracted her with their need to be reprimanded."

"Chances are high," George nodded, smiling slightly. "The look on their faces was completely priceless."

"Completely," I nodded, shoving a wrapper in the bag.

"I can't wait to see their faces when we take the Cup," said George dreamily.

"I hope they cry," I smirked, imagining a blubbering Montague. "I'd love to see Graham in a tear-filled tantrum."

"Bleeding codger," George muttered at the thought of Graham. "I'm going to beam him upside the head with a Bludger if it kills me."

"Toss the club to me, and I'll do it myself," I said.

"He'd like it of _you_ did it," said George. "The foul wanker would probably never wash his face again, not like he ever did to begin with."

"He's positively revolting, it's my luck that the only bloke who has ever fancied me over the years is a rotten cockroach like him," I frowned, not mentioning Oliver of course.

George didn't say anything back, which caused me to look over at him. He was looking directly at me with this look that shouted the fact he wanted to say something. His mouth kept opening and closing, short monosyllabic grunts coming from his throat.

"Er— yeah," he agreed, turning back to the remainder of the mess. I noticed he closed his eyes tight for a moment, mumbling something to himself before re-opening them.

"George," I said in a concerned voice, "you alright?"

"I'm fine," he said quickly, tying up his bag hastily.

"No, no you're not," I insisted. "What is it?"

"It's nothing," he said.

"Obviously it's not nothing," I said, striding towards him. "You know you can tell me anything, George."

He dropped the now full bag of trash on the floor and took a step forward to meet me.

"It's just— it's just that—" he began awkwardly, scratching the back of his neck while he looked down at me. "I mean I— well, for awhile now I've had these feel—"

Did I want him to confess what he was about to confess? If he finished his sentence then there would be no going back. Our relationship would be changed forever if he admitted what I believed he was about to admit. No good could come from this, I told myself. However, a pang of an unfamiliar feeling in my abdomen that urged me to press him to answer my inquisition. I started running scenarios through my mind of what would come, and I was shocked at the images my mind came up with. I was happy, pleased he had confided his feelings to me. I had wanted him to do so, unbeknownst to me.

I didn't know I had rested my hand upon my chest until I felt his racing heart beneath his T-shirt. My expression was urging, doe-eyed. He took a deep, abrupt breath and leaned in quickly towards me. He was going to kiss me, and I had no time to back away and I no longer knew if I wanted to anymore. However, I didn't have to make that decision... thank Merlin.

"AAARRGGHH! NOOO!"

Our motions abruptly ceased, our necks jerking towards the boys' staircase simultaneously. A loud scream had halted whatever George was trying to tell me and possibly kiss me.

"What was that?" George breathed shallowly, protectively pushing me behind him.

"It's happening," I said breathlessly, instantly realizing what had occurred. My vision was indeed coming true. I recognized Ron's scream from my nightmare. It had the same sound, volume, everything. My heart froze inside my chest, feeling a bit woozy.

"No," he replied, quickly turning back to meet his frightened face my expressionless one. "No, it can't be."

All of the sudden everyone living in the boys' third year dormitory came dashing down the stairs, stumbling over each other in the darkness. The sound of doors opened behind us, and sleepy voices calling out.

"Who shouted?"

"What're you doing?"

The common room was lit with the glow of the dying fire, no longer littered with the debris from the party. It was deserted besides George and I. With a quick wave of my wand, that was sticking out from my elastic waistband, I illuminated the common room.

"Are you _sure _you weren't dreaming, Ron?" asked Seamus Finnigan.

"I'm telling you, I saw him!" he objected loudly.

"What's all the noise?"

"Professor McGonagall told us to go to bed!"

A few of the girls had come down their staircase, pulling on dressing gowns and yawning. Boys, too, were reappearing.

"Excellent, are we carrying on?" said Fred Weasley brightly, freezing momentarily when he set eyes on George and I alone in the center of the chaos.

Ron appeared as pale as a ghost, shaking erratically, I strode forward and wrapped my arm around him for support. Fred hurried over beside George and began whispering fiercely between the two of them before staring over at Ron and I. Ginny appeared from the girls' staircase and joined her older brothers in their frantic whispering.

"Everyone back upstairs!" said Percy, hurrying into the common room and pinning his Head Boy badge to his pajamas as he spoke.

"Perce — Sirius Black!" said Ron faintly. "In our dormitory! With a knife! Woke me up!"

The common room went very still. Percy didn't say anything, his eyes instantly shifting from Ron to me. His mouth hung slightly ajar and I nodded sadly at him.

"Now, really, enough's enough!"

Professor McGonagall was back. She slammed the portrait behind her as she entered the common room and stared furiously around.

"I am delighted that Gryffindor won the match, but this is getting ridiculous! Percy, I expected better of you!"

"I certainly didn't authorize this, Professor!" said Percy, puffing himself up indignantly. "I was just—"

"PROFESSOR, I WOKE UP, AND SIRIUS BLACK WAS STANDING OVER ME, HOLDING A KNIFE!" Ron yelled.

Professor McGonagall stared at him.

"Don't be ridiculous, Weasley, how could he possibly have gotten through the portrait hole?" she said simply.

"Ask him!" said Ron, pointing a shaking finger at the back of Sir Cadogan's picture. "Ask him if he saw—"

Glaring suspiciously at Ron, Professor McGonagall pushed the portrait back open and went outside. The whole common room listened with bated breath. "Sir Cadogan, did you just let a man enter Gryffindor Tower?"

"Certainly, good lady!" cried Sir Cadogan.

There was a stunned silence, both inside and outside the common room.

"You — you _did_?" said Professor McGonagall. "But — but the password!"

"He had 'em!" said Sir Cadogan proudly. "Had the whole week's, my lady! Read 'em off a little piece of paper!"

Professor McGonagall pulled herself back through the portrait hole to face the stunned crowd. She was white as chalk.

"Which person," she said, her voice shaking, "which abysmally foolish person wrote down this week's passwords and left them lying around?"

There was utter silence, broken by the smallest of terrified squeaks. Neville Longbottom, trembling from head to fluffy slippered toes, raised his hand slowly into the air. I had to hand it to him, he had balls.

The next hour or two consisted of Professor McGonagall insisting we all sit against the wall of the common room, disallowing any of us from going back upstairs. I was pinned between Fred and George initially, my arms crossed against my torso so tight I could hardly breathe. However, Ginny squeezed in between Fred and I to speak fiercely about my vision coming true but in an hour her head was resting in my lap while she tried to sleep after being shouted at by Percy to keep quiet. I delicately combed my fingers through her hair in a maternal fashion, something Molly had always done to us when we were sick as kids. I kept staring straight ahead into the hearth across from us. Oliver was sitting next to Lee a dozen or so Gryffindors down from us, and I could feel him looking over at me every few minutes. We weren't allowed to talk on pain of death according to McGonagall, so needless to say the twins and I were rambling to one another like mad.

"It could just be a coincidence," said Fred in a stupid attempt to try to make me feel better.

"Yes, Fred, I'm sure that must be it," I spat. "I have a nightmare that Ron is attacked by Sirius Black, and when it happens it is just a coincidence."

"What else could it be, Winnie?" he snapped. "If you were really predicting this stuff that would make you a—"

"_Winifred_," Professor McGonagall interrupted, shooting a pain of fear through me. "Professor Dumbledore wishes to see you in his office immediately. The rest of you, don't move a muscle, and your tongue is a muscle, so not a word from any of you."

"I'm pretty tired, Professor, I'd rather just stay—" I began.

"Now, McKinnon," she insisted fiercely, in no mood to deal with my objections. "Professor Dumbledore asked that both Fred and George Weasley escort you there and back, a serious lapse in judgment in my opinion, but nonetheless I will adhere to no monkey business."

"Now that is just silly, Professor," said Fred, taking to his feet. "Where would get a monkey?"

"Let alone one with a head for business," George smiled, helping to my feet after I propped Ginny up against the wall.

"Just get a move on and no side trips," she frowned, watching us exit from the portrait hole. "Believe me, I'll know if you veer off course."

The twins and I didn't say a word to one another until we had gotten far enough away from the portrait hole that we knew for certain McGonagall couldn't hear us. I peered anxiously over my shoulder, making sure no one was around us.

"OK, where do you think we should hide out until morning?" I asked nervously.

"What are you going on about?" asked George.

"Well, I'm certainly not going to see Dumbledore," I said, aghast. "I'm not going to sit there while he tells me I'm crazy."

"Far be it from me to agree with McGonagall," said Fred, "but she seemed pretty adamant that you get to Dumbledore's office A.S.A.P."

"Please, Fred," I pleaded, "I can't do this."

"Winnie, we'll be waiting outside the entire time," said George, taking hold of my arm. "If you start to feel uncomfortable then just come and fetch us. I'm sure that's why Dumbledore asked we walk you anyhow."

"Fine, whatever," I frowned, "but when I come out in a straightjacket you'll be eating your words."

–

I stood before Professor Dumbledore's large mahogany desk that I had seen only twice before, the first time when Ginny had been taken into the Chamber of Secrets and the five of us had been called in to speak with the infamous Headmaster, the second was when the twins and I accidentally set the seventh floor corridor on fire. It really was a total accident, I swear. This time was different from either of those instances, however, and I can't explain why. Maybe it was because I was terrified for myself instead of Ginny and for my well being over my permanent record.

Professor Dumbledore's face was kind and welcoming, making me just an inch less anxious to be in his office. I felt underdressed to be in the presence of such a distinguished wizard such as Albus Dumbledore. I stood with my hair down, resembling an untamed lion's mane, Fred's old striped pajama pants hanging lower around my waist than they rightfully should, and my prehistoric Chudley Canons t-shirt that was purchased when I was 8 only helped to reveal four inches of my bare stomach. Oh, P.S. I wasn't even wearing a bra. I felt like a complete and utter git. I may have not been so self-conscious of my appearance if the twins wouldn't have oh-so humorously pointed out my flaws before shoving my up the marble staircase while they so conveniently sat against the opposing wall to wait for my return.

"Good Evening, Winifred," he smiled pleasantly, looking at me over his half-moon glasses.

"With all do respect, sir," I frowned, "I would consider this evening far from 'good.'"

"I hope with some enlightenment I can change that," he nodded kindly. "I'm sure you are rather confused and most likely quite frightened after this evenings events transpired."

"Sir, I'm really not feeling well," I sighed, trying to pull down my shirt to no avail. "I think I should just lie down—"

"I would agree with you," he said, "but I believe there is someone you should meet, someone who you should have met a very, very long time ago."

"Who—" I began, keeping myself warm by crossing my arms and rubbing my upper arms with my palms repeatedly.

"Alboos, she ees even more beautiful in person," said a Bulgarian woman's voice from behind me.

I turned slightly to see whom was entering from the spiral staircase behind me. It was a short elderly woman with long frizzy gray hair that was tamed under a orange scarf atop her head. Thick soda bottle glasses rested upon her large, crooked nose while she wore a long, bright floral dress that matched her scarf. Her back was slightly humped and she walked with a shillelagh like cane. What made the undoubtedly century old woman all the more attention grabbing was the ancient Irish Wolfhound that walked beside her that stood almost as tall as she and I did. She limped forward, placing an extremely wrinkled hand on my cheek. My eyes widened, my arms still locked across my chest, feeling extremely uncomfortable.

"Cassandra, so good to see you," said Dumbledore, rising from his seat. "I am so pleased you were able to come on such short notice. Oh, and I see you've brought Leo as well."

"Oh, don't be silly, Alboos," the old woman replied, not tearing her eyes away from mine. "I 'ave been preparing for thees day for years. I was just getting ready to leave for Hogwarts when I received your owl."

"I am quite certain you were," Dumbledore grinned adoringly.

"Er—" I began awkwardly, wishing desperately that the creepy old lady would take her hand off my face. "I'm sorry, do I know you?"

"Oh, my apologies," said Dumbledore genuinely. "Winifred, this is Cassandra Vablatsky."

"The author of _Unfogging the Future_?" I inquired, remembering her name from our required text from Divination during my third year.

"Yes, but more importantly your great-grandmother," said Dumbledore.

I abruptly stepped back, my arms tightening around my abdomen. I shook my head erratically, my eyes wide in disbelief.

"There must be some sort of mistake," I said, my voice as unsteady as my balance. "My entire family is dead, I'm the sole remaining heir."

"It isn't true, my child," said the woman, unfazed by my disbelief.

"Sir?" I said helplessly, looking to Dumbledore.

"It is the truth, Miss McKinnon," said the elderly Headmaster, nodding slightly.

"W— What is going on?" I stammered, stepping back so far that my back struck the wall. "Why is she here to see _me_ of all people?"

"She's here to help you cope with your developing ability," Dumbledore explained.

"What are you talking about, what ability?" I asked frantically.

"Oh, love, you must have some inkling," said the humpbacked woman. "Your visions, the intoxicating feeling once your fingertips touch your crystal ball, the extraordinary ease you have when making predictions—"

"What are you trying to say?" I asked wearily.

"You, my darling child, are a Seer," she beamed.

Without a moment's hesitation I burst out laughing and not even the all powerful Cassandra Vablatsky could have predicted that reaction. This was complete ludicrous, utter and complete insanity. Fred and George must have set the whole thing up, gotten Dumbledore in on it to try to spook me. That's why they were so set on me coming to Dumbledore's office in the first place. There was no possible way that I, plain 'ole Freddie, could have one of the rarest and most desired abilities on the face of the earth. What was even more unbelievable was the claim that this bizarre woman, this Cassandra Vablatsky, was my great-grandmother. I ran my fingers through my hair and walked forward once again, laughing for a few seconds more before ceasing my chuckles.

"This is a joke," I smirked defiantly, "Fred and George are behind this entire prank somehow, right? How much did they pay you to claim you were my grandmother? I'll double their price to have you tell them I believed you and decided to move out of their house and in with you. They'll absolutely die—"

"_Winifred_," Professor Dumbledore said swiftly, interrupting my informal rambles, "I can assure you this is no joke."

"Did they pay you off as well, sir?" I went on, a cheeky grin spread across my face. If I wasn't so out of my mind at the moment I would have been embarrassed to have spoken so rudely to the Headmaster.

"Winnie, why don't you sit down and we'll explain everything," Dumbledore suggested, pretending my previous snide comment never happened.

I kept my eye on the odd old woman as I tentatively returned to the armchair before Dumbledore's desk. Cassandra Vablatsky slowly sat down in the chair beside me, her enormous dog that put Fang's size to shame, lying down beside her. She began scratching behind her dog's ears, her gaze never leaving me. Her eyes suddenly lingered onto my neck.

"I see you fancy my necklace," she said a matter-of-factually.

I reached swiftly up and grabbed onto my locket, rubbing it subconsciously between my thumb and index finger. Please, for the love of Merlin, let this just be another nightmare... let me wake-up.

–

_**A/N:**__ Whoa. Winnie, a Seer? No way! Ha! Just kidding. I'm sure everyone at least suspected that was what was going on, and finally we see the truth come out once and for all. I'm sorry this chapter was complete and total stilted rubbish. This was meant to be a sort of filler before the climax, so stay tuned for my next update. I leave in a week for Europe, and I am determined to finish Part I before I leave. I have 2 chapters left, and I know I can do it! Let me reach 250 reviews before Chapter 14, and I will die of happiness :)_

_**PS: **__This was over 12,000 words. Wow. Is that too much? I feel like I'm over-doing it. _

_**Questions for you: **__What would you like to see come out of the Cassandra relationship? You'll learn why she didn't get shipped off to her when her parents initially died and why Winnie was ignorant to her existence before now. _

_**Coming Soon:**__ Winnie discovers a link to her past that even she could not foresee, Cassandra delivers an ultimatum, Slytherin v. Gryffindor, Oliver delivers a proposition she can't refuse, Alicia is a total twit, Freddie is left to face the consequences of her lies, George seeks revenge, Oliver is suspicious, summer is in bloom, chaos and hilarity undoubtedly ensue..._

–

_**Shout Out Sunday**_

_**harlequincabaret: **_Thanks! I hope you feel the same about this almost kiss as well. Ha!

_**Unconquerable: **_Thank you so much for saying that! That is my main priority with this fic. I want their relationship to be believable and genuine. I appreciate you reading and reviewing and being number 225!

_**Sage1993: **_Thank you!

_**annie-elise: **_Ha! Thanks so much :)

_**IluvKellanForever: **_Thanks, dearie! I'm glad you liked it. The Percy relationship is going to be further studied in later chapters and sequels :)

_**Maddie Black: **_Yeah, I agree. About the sweatshirt, I was initially going to have him put his number on the back instead of anything else but when I decided to just out her name on the back then I figured they would just conclude she'd bought it for herself. You read my mind about Alicia by the way... sort of. You'll see ;) Also, it depends what you consider romance. You'll have to see in the next 2 chapters :)

_**weasleygirl31: **_Yes! Team George! I will convert you yet. By the way... your avatar is up on my photobucket page now. I hope you like it! The link is on my fanfic profile page :)

_**fanny-kun: **_Thank you so so much! You may get your wish ;)

_**Kumori Gem: **_Thank you so much for reviewing! And the dead bit... not dead so much as beaten to a bloody pulp ;)

_**HadleyConlon: **_Thanks, girl! I always look forward to reading your reviews :)

_**HuffieKaulitz: **_Yussss :) Thanks so much!

_**Daliha: **_I deleted a twelve pager for my final paper a month ago. I could deal with this one! Haha. Thanks so so much for reviewing! I'm trying to finish revising your chapters, but I am still swamped with a million things. Try not to murder me if I don't finish until I get back!

_**Wiatch: **_Thanks so much, and I agree with everything you said! PS- I got your PM, I have 4 pages done but I don't want to pump out another stilted Siren's Song chapter, so I'm trying to make it halfway decent this time.

_**The Last of the Timeladies: **_Thanks so much for reviewing!

_**OurLoveisForever: **_Thanks very much, and you are completely correct :)

_**obsession-iz-a-good-thing: **_THANKS!

_**ValFish: **_Thanks for reviewing! I hope you keep reading!

_**Shrimp Chimp: **_Thanks, I love your reviews so much! I know, I couldn't let Winnie kiss him just then. She needs to do a lot of soul searching before she makes any rash decisions. Thus why I didn't have them kiss again.

_**lilmisspurplesunshine:**_ Thanks and no worries, it'll happen!

–

_Review._


	14. Chapter 14: The Celebrated Seer

_**Chapter Fourteen**_

_The Celebrated Seer_

–

_The Present is a point just Past._

–

"_Your_ necklace?" I breathed unsteadily, looking nervously from Dumbledore and back to Cassandra.

"Of course," she smiled pleasantly. "Eet was a gift from your great-grandfather, Olaf, as a wedding present. Eet belonged to 'is grandmother, you understand. I passed eet on to my daughter, your grandmother Charlotte, when she married your grandfather and then after your father, Benjamin, passed away eet was apparent to your grandmother that she would never 'ave thee opportunity to pass on thee locket to a daughter-in-law because Benjy was 'er only child, you see. So she gave eet to your mum on thee night you were born instead, then eet was left to you."

"I— I don't understand," I said wearily. "If you are my great-grandmother like you say you are then why have I never heard about you before, or better yet, why was I not shipped off to you instead of the Weasleys?"

"The Weasleys were not my first stop the night of your mother's death," said Dumbledore gently, leaning over his desk. "Before I had even gone to see the carnage in Little Langley that night I had stopped by to speak with Cassandra about your guardianship, seeing as she and your now late great-grandfather were your sole remaining blood relatives—"

"Well, why am I not under your care?" I asked hastily, "Why didn't you take me in?"

"Because eet was not your destiny, child," she said as if I should have already known.

"Sorry?" I scoffed in disbelief.

"A Seer's adolescence ees a very delicate time," she went on, ignoring my confused expression. "Een thee wrong 'ands, your abilities could develop too early and—"

"So you're basically telling me that you turned me away when I needed a home more than anything because your little tarot cards told you I needed to grow up ignorant to my so-called ability?" I said incredulously, taking to my feet. "This is ludicrous, Professor, I am not a Seer and there is no way this tosspot is related to me, so if you'll excuse me, I'm leaving. This is all a load of bull—"

"_Sit down, Winifred_," said Professor Dumbledore in a severe tone, causing me to sit back in my chair. I was too frightened to say another word in protest. "I brought Cassandra here to help you. I know you must be scared because this is all rather overwhelming, but it is of dire importance that you allow her to help you."

"If she wanted to help then she should have taken me in over twelve years ago," I snapped. "How can she possibly do anything to help me now?"

"She's going to tutor you," said Dumbledore simply. "She's going to help you understand how to control your ability."

"And if I refuse?" I spat, sending a vindictive look at Cassandra.

"Winifred, why would you refuse?" asked the old woman. "You know as well as I do that you wish you could control your visions, prevent nightmares, besides we're family—"

"No, we are _not_ family," I insisted viciously. "We may share the same blood but we are _not_ family. My family consists of the Weasleys. They were there for me when I needed someone to love me, you are nothing to me but a mediocre author of nonsense."

"_Mediocre_? Er— Winifred, you must understand 'ow difficult eet was to turn Alboos's request down," she said. "Olaf was livid with me, but eet ees against the laws of nature for one Seer to raise another."

"How did you even know I was a Seer back then—"

She sent me a condescending look as if to say _Uh-because-I-am-a-Seer_.

"Well, why didn't Molly and Arthur ever mention you to me?" I asked swiftly. "This is the first time I've ever heard anything about you besides reading about you in the history in Divination with Professor Trelawney."

"Oh, do not tell me Sibyl ees still teaching Divination, Alboos," said Cassandra, "The woman ees to thee art of thee Inner Eye what Gilderoy Lockhart was to... well, what Gilderoy Lockhart ees to thee Inner Eye... nothing. She ees a joke, an utter fraud... but that ees neither 'ere nor there... thee reason thee Weasleys did not speak of me ees because they do not know I am your great-grandmother. Before _You-Know-Who_ took power, Olaf and I went eento 'iding. Thee power of Sight ees a much desired ability, especially to those tampering een thee Dark Arts. When no word was 'eard from thee two of us for over a year we were presumed to 'ave been killed. When we returned to society, we changed our name to prevent anyone from finding us."

"I was their Secret Keeper when their names were still Vladimir and Uma Chernikova," said Dumbledore. "Olaf and Cassandra loved you, Winifred, but things were so different then, we lived in dangerous times. After going to speak with Cassandra I knew that you were better off in the hands of the Weasleys as well. You had grown up with them your entire life already, it was where you belonged... _where you do belong_."

I wasn't going to argue that fact. I belonged in the Burrow and I wouldn't have preferred to grow up anywhere else, but something still didn't sit right with me about Cassandra or Uma or whoever she was. She had turned me away because she cared more about me developing a power I don't even want than taking me in. So... Seers couldn't be raised by another Seer because it threatened their power's ability to develop properly... I can't remember if we learned that in Divination or not.

I couldn't claim to have been overwhelmingly surprised by my Seer discovery. I suppose I'd been denying all the signs up until now. I'd been brilliant in Divination for years, no one came close to my capabilities, the dreams or visions or whatever they are, and my odd ability to read people. I guess I'd just been trying to push any thoughts that I could have such a power because I was frightened of the reality.

"I'm not doubting that," I argued. "You couldn't pay me to have grown up anywhere else, but that does not negate the fact that it would have been nice to know I wasn't the only one left in my biological family."

"I stick by my decision, Winifred," said Cassandra. "You 'ave thee potential to be one of thee greatest Seers een 'istory because of what I did."

"Wonderful," I smiled sarcastically. "Well, I'm glad you shoved an orphan into the cold, so I could develop a power I don't even want!"

"Why would you not want such a blessing?" she inquired, shocked at my denial.

"Because I don't want to see the future," I objected. "I don't want to know what will happen before it happens. Who would want that? It's not a blessing, it's a curse. I just want to be normal, I just want my life back."

Cassandra sighed heavily, blatantly disappointed with my taking to this life changing news. She must have expected a much more warm welcome, because her expression appeared broken. I bet she didn't foresee me telling her in so many words to sod off... and she calls herself a Seer.

"I can teach you 'ow to control eet," she sighed regretfully, turning her gaze to her wrinkled hands in her lap. "Eef you really wish to rid yourself of thees gift then I will show you 'ow to put a stop to your power. Eef that ees what you _really_ want?"

"It is," I said simply, nodding.

"Miss McKinnon, you understand the opportunity you have been presented," said Dumbledore. "You have been given this extremely rare ability and the chance to train with one of the most celebrated Seers in history—"

"I am very thankful for your concern, sir," I sighed, "but I'd prefer to do things this way."

"Very well," Dumbledore frowned sadly, "Cassandra has agreed to meet with you once a week beginning the start of next term, she will instruct you the way she deems necessary to achieve your request. However, if at any time your mind changes then I know Cassandra would be more than pleased to—"

"I understand, sir," I interrupted, "I doubt that my mind will change, however. I'm sorry."

Dumbledore merely nodded in reply.

"Well, I suppose you want to 'ead off to bed now, I know you have your meeting with Professor McGonagall tomorrow afternoon after all. Alboos and I will make plans een your absence," said Cassandra despondently. "Oh, and there will be no need to eenform your friends Fred and George Weasley of our discussion."

Bullocks she was good. I had completely forgotten I had my O.W.L. appointment with McGonagall the following afternoon at 2:00 PM. Thank you, Cassandra.

"Am I not allowed to?" I asked anxiously.

"No, eet ees not that," he smirked coyly. "Eet's just that they've already 'eard, considering they've been eavesdropping ever since I walked eenside Alboos's office."

The brief sound of shuffling footsteps could be heard from behind us, and I couldn't help but smirk for a brief moment.

"Oh," I said curtly. "Yeah, they tend to do that—"

"But we do recommend keeping this meeting between as few people as possible," said Dumbledore, his eyes twinkling. "I will be writing Molly and Arthur Weasley on what we spoke about, seeing as they are your guardians but whomever else you tell is up to your own personal judgment."

"I don't plan on telling anyone else," I said, taking to my feet. "This is all rather strange, and I can't wait to be able to push it all back under the rug and forget about it once and for all."

"Whatever you like," said Dumbledore. "Goodnight, Miss McKinnon, we will be in touch."

"Of course, sir, and goodnight to you," I replied, nodding kindly to the elderly wizard before allowing my gaze to rest on Cassandra. "Er— see you, Madam Vablatsky..."

I knew that felt like a punch in her gut to refer to her in such a formal tone, but I didn't care. I just wanted to get outside and be able to curl up under my covers and forget about the entire night. I didn't look back once I reached the doorway, I instead sprinted down the steps and began walking quickly back to Gryffindor Tower. The twins exchanged confused looks before running after me, one on either side of me as I walked.

"Freddie—" said Fred.

"Freddie, stop for a bleeding minute," George urged, grasping my elbow and jerking me back to face him.

My lower lip quivered for the overwhelming emotion I was drowning in: the shock, the betrayal, the utter confusion. This would have been the opportune time to cry, but no tears came as usual. George gauged my expression and pulled me roughly against him. I planted my face against his chest, gripping his t-shirt with my fists. I rolled my forehead against him as if to erase my recent memory. I felt his hand gently petting the back of my head while he held me close with his free arm. I couldn't make out the soft whispers he was breathing in between sloppy kisses that he placed atop my head, but I knew they were words of comfort which were as effective mumbled as they would have been if elegantly spoken.

"'S alright, Win," said Fred, "we're here for you."

"Why me?" I whispered hoarsely. "I'm just plain 'ole Winnie M—"

"You're much more than just that," said George, swallowing hard.

"I just want to be normal," I frowned, closing my eyes tight against George's torso.

"Being normal is overrated," said Fred, breaking the tension. "Whoever said being normal was what everyone should strive to be must have been insufferably normal and was just jealous of all the fun oddballs like us."

"Solid argument," said George. "Since when have we ever cared about fitting in. I think it's brilliant that you're a Seer."

"Well, I won't be for long," I said, pulling away from him so he could hang his arm over my shoulders while we headed back to the tower again. "I'm going to learn how to control this if it kills me."

"You're sure you want to do that?" asked Fred

"I mean, not many people can claim to—" George continued.

"I've already heard it from Dumbledore, and I don't need to hear it from you two," I frowned. "This is my life, it's my decision, and I've made it."

"Well, I think you're making a big mistake," said George, unfazed by my attitude. "I can understand being upset about the whole great-grandma thing, but you've been given this gift and you're going to waste it."

"It's not a _gift_, and I wish everyone would quit referring to it as such," I argued. "A gift is something you want, something you're grateful for. I don't want this, and I'm done talking about it."

"Fine, whatever, _for now_," said George, "but I'm not letting the subject die forever."

"Oh, fantastic," I frowned.

"Oh, cheer up, Freddie," said Fred, wrapping his arm over mys shoulders as well. "Our birthdays are coming up, you can't deny yourself a smile at that thought."

I didn't smile. The twins and I always celebrated our birthdays on the same day: April 15th. It was exactly two weeks before mine and two weeks after theirs. We weren't allowed to wish the other 'Happy Birthday' on our actual birthdays. When we were little we used to pretend we were triplets and thus shared the same birthday, the tradition stuck. However, celebrating our birthdays couldn't be further from my mind. I forced the fakest smile I'd ever mustered for Fred's sake and leaned my head on his shoulder, still wishing I would wake up from this nightmare I call my life.

–

No one, including me, in Gryffindor Tower slept that night, but my insomnia was not due to a psychotic serial killer but rather my conversation with Dumbledore. Everyone knew that the castle was being searched again, and the whole House stayed awake in the common room the entire night, waiting to hear whether Black had been caught. Professor McGonagall came back at dawn, to tell us that he had again escaped.

Throughout the next day, everywhere I went I saw signs of tighter security; Professor Flitwick could be seen teaching the front doors to recognize a large picture of Sirius Black; Filch was suddenly bustling up and down the corridors, boarding up everything from tiny cracks in the walls to mouse holes. Sir Cadogan had been fired. His portrait had been taken back to its lonely landing on the seventh floor, and the Fat Lady was back. She had been expertly restored, but was still extremely nervous, and had agreed to return to her job only on condition that she was given extra protection. A bunch of surly security trolls had been hired to guard her. They paced the corridor in a menacing group, talking in grunts and comparing the size of their clubs.

I couldn't help noticing that the statue of the one-eyed witch on the third floor remained unguarded and unblocked. It seemed that Fred, George, and I had been right in thinking that we — and now Harry, Ron, and Hermione — are the only ones who know about the hidden passageway within it. I made a mental note to tell the twins of this after meeting with McGonagall. They'd had theirs the previous weekend, luck prats. They told her they planned on becoming entrepreneurs, and she wasn't all that surprised having caught us selling treats on numerous occasions and punishing us as well.

My eyelids were heavy from lack of sleep, dark circles were also visible under my eyes. I'd eaten breakfast early in the morning with Oliver because no one else from Gryffindor opted to eat in the morning over sleeping in their own beds besides the two of us. I didn't tell him about my meeting the night before, choosing to tell him that the twins and I had to go speak to Dumbledore about Ron's well-being to Molly and Arthur through the hearth considering Percy was too busy helping with the search. It sounded pretty believable to me, but I was too tired to really care how much sense I was making.

I stood before McGonagall's door, yawning heavily before knocking. She called for me to enter her office, and I lazily followed her instructions, claiming the comfortable armchair before her desk that was nearly identical to Dumbledore's. I'd been in her office countless times for obvious reasons involving pranks and such.

"Miss McKinnon—" started McGonagall, looking up from her papers and freezing her gaze on me. "Are you quite alright?"

"I'm fine, Professor," I said quietly, rubbing my eyes.

"Did you not sleep at all?"

"No, I'm not tired," I lied and unconvincingly at that.

"Well, I'll try to keep this as brief as possible considering you appear as if you are about to keel over at any moment," she said kindly, pulling out my file containing all my prior grades.

"Alright," I yawned.

"Now, you have managed to receive rather admirable scores over your career at Hogwarts," she began, adjusting her glasses, "and I must admit I am surprised considering your fondness of er— well, the companionship of the Weasley twins."

"No one is more surprised than I am," I smirked.

"Well, I'm sure you know already that your best class is that of Divination," she explained, "but I can safely deduct that you most likely do not—"

"I'd rather lose a shouting contest to a mandrake than do anything with Divination, Professor," I interrupted.

"As I suspected," she nodded, "there isn't much one can do with such a subject unless you were a Seer or something."

She laughed lightly at her jokecomment, unaware of how uncomfortable she'd made me.

"Yeah," was all I managed to reply.

"But you also exceed in Defense Against the Dark Arts and in my class as well," she said. "Have you ever considered becoming an Auror?"

"No," I said, "I like Transfiguration a lot, Professor, and I like using the art to create devices and such—"

"You want to go into the same field as Fred and George Weasley then?" she inquired, almost disappointed.

"Yes, that would make me happy," I nodded.

"Very well then," she sighed, handing me a list of marks and classes I need to achieve a career in business. "It appears you'll be in the same classes as the twins."

"Divination isn't on here," I said before I could stop myself, reading the list of classes.

"No, it is not required unless you would like to continue the subject as an elective," she said. "Is that a problem?"

"N— No," I said, looking up at her and smiling awkwardly, "not at all."

"Good," she smiled kindly. "If you have any additional inquisitions about your classes etc do not hesitate to come and speak to me."

"Thanks, Professor," I nodded, taking to my feet.

"You're quite welcome, Miss McKinnon," she grinned. "Just try to keep your nose in your books for the remainder of this term, and I have all the confidence in the world that you'll succeed."

–

I stepped out into the hall, rubbing my eyes to clear my vision. I just wanted to go back to Gryffindor Tower and climb into my bed even if I knew I wouldn't be able to sleep. I guess I had become a walking zombie because I didn't even see the three enormous barbarians striding towards me: Graham Montague, Thomas Derrick, and Philip Bole. Half the bloody Slytherin Quidditch team had surrounded me, and I was all alone. I tried to sidestep them, but the three seemed to take up the entire corridor.

"Ah, McKinnon," said Montague, smiling disgustingly. "You're looking very chipper this morning."

"Get out of my way," I spat. "I am in no mood, Graham, and that goes for you too."

I nodded towards Bole and Derrick, but they merely smirked and looked at each other from the corner of their beady little eyes.

"Now that isn't very good sportsmanship, McKinnon," said Bole.

"Shut up, Bole," I snapped. "You don't know the meaning of the word sportsmanship, in fact you don't know the meaning of most words."

"She's a feisty one alright, Graham," Bole smirked.

"Right, Tommy?" he replied. "You can't blame me for wanting to—"

"Finish that sentence, Montague, and I swear to Merlin that it'll be the last thing you ever say with all your teeth," I sneered.

Montague was amused with me as usual for some sick reason. He backed me up against the wall while I tried my hardest to not break our eye-contact, I refused to show fear no matter how many times he eclipsed my size. He leaned in close to my face, his hand planted beside my ear. I turned my head to the side with a revolted look on my face as I inhaled his dragon breath.

"Mm... is that a new perfume I smell?" he asked, sniffing my hair by almost shoving his entire head into the mop atop my head.

"No," I hissed, "and yes, you do."

"When are you going to quit playing hard to get?" he asked quietly, the sickening smile he always sported never leaving his ugly face.

"When you quit playing easy to have," I said rolling my eyes.

"You drive me mad, McKinnon," he breathed.

"You were already there far before you even met me," I frowned.

"Come now, you can't tell me that you're not the slightest bit attracted to me," he said, unfazed by my rude remark.

"Oh, I can, and I'll go even further," I spat, "I wouldn't piss down your throat if your heart was on fire."

"Take that back," he sneered.

"You're right, Graham, I will take that statement back... because it was erroneous," I replied crudely. "You don't even have a heart to piss on."

With one swift motion he held his pudgy palm around my throat. I gasped to breath, holding onto his wrist to try to free myself. Bole and Derrick merely looked on with wide eyes. Graham leaned in so his mouth was less than an inch from my ear.

"You really need an attitude adjustment, McKinnon," he whispered, his breath burning my eardrum.

"And you need a shower," I spat, feeling his grip tighten around my neck.

"I'd suggest being a bit more friendly towards me if you don't want things to get dirty on the pitch for your little friends," he hissed, implying he would use dirty tactics during our match against them. If I didn't already know he'd play dirty regardless then I may have contemplated a different response. "Do you hear me?"

"Oh, I hear you," I gasped, feeling myself go lightheaded. "I just don't give a shit."

He completely cut off my air supply after that retort, things started going blurry. I took the remainder of my strength and slammed my heel as hard as I could against his foot. He squealed in pain, bending over to grab his now injured foot. I lifted my elbow upwards and rammed him in the jaw causing him to stumble backwards. He had reared back to come at me again with full force. I'd underestimated his pain tolerance (which had probably become quite high over the years thanks to me) because he was charging at me with a look of fury across his mug.

"_STUPEFY_!"

Montague went flying across the corridor, shooting into his two Beaters like they were a pair of bowling pins. I slid down the wall, clutching my aching throat as I discovered the identity of my savior: Oliver. His face was as red as a tomato, his chest rising and falling furiously through his shirt. Every muscle in his extended arm was flexed, he appeared more enraged that I had ever seen him. He kept his wand pointed at the trio of Slytherins all the while he approached me, helping me to my own two feet. He kept his free arm around my waist to steady me.

"Graham Montague, you putrescent mass of walking vomit," Oliver yelled, "if you ever so much as look at her the wrong way I will hit you so hard that what few braincells you have left can consider themselves history!"

"Piss off, Wood!" he bellowed back. "You'll be singing a different tune once we massacre you lot next match. You won't be so high and mighty then!"

"Fat chance!" Ollie screamed back.

"Who's making all this ruckus?" McGonagall called from down the hall, her footsteps coming closer.

Montague, Bole, and Derrick darted off towards the dungeons while Oliver helped me back in the direction of Gryffindor Tower. We hurried down the corridor towards the Tower, resting once we peeled around a corner out of sight. Oliver helped me sit down on the floor, so I could catch my already lost breath. He pulled my hand from my neck to see if I had any bruises. I didn't for now, thank Merlin, only red marks. His hands bawled into fists as he gritted his teeth fiercely.

"Are you alright?" he asked, placing his hand delicately in the same spot Graham had nearly choked me to death.

"Fine," I breathed shallowly, forcing a smile before I continued. "I could have taken him, you know."

"Sure," said Oliver sarcastically, rolling his eyes humorously. "Though I will admit that you did hold your own from what I saw."

"I guess I'm lucky you showed up," I said graciously.

"I was just coming to see how your OWL appointment with McGonagall went," he explained. "I didn't expect to see that codger with his hands on you."

"He's had some twisted obsession with me for ages," I said casually. "I'm used to it."

"If he comes at you again promise me you'll come and fetch me," he said sternly. "I'm going to handle this situation myself from now on."

"You sound like Fred and George," I said.

"I don't doubt that, I care about you as much as they do," he went on. "The three of us just don't want to see you get hurt."

"I appreciate the concern," I said, "but I've been handling Graham Montague for five years now. I've got the situation under control."

"Judging by the bright red finger marks around your neck, you don't," he said.

I leaned forward and kissed him before he could continue lecturing me.

"You have much more important things to worry about than this," I smiled weakly. "We play Slytherin coming up, just concentrate on that—"

"Nothing is more important to me than you," he said genuinely.

I knew he meant it, and for some reason that was more terrifying to me than the threat of Graham Montague.

–

I had to fit in all my homework around Quidditch practice every day, not to mention endless discussions of tactics with Oliver in between sneaking off to our late night dates that were becoming more and more difficult to conceal. The Gryffindor-Slytherin match would take place on the first Saturday after the Easter holidays, and I couldn't wait to just get it over with. Slytherin was leading the tournament by exactly two hundred points. This meant (as Ollie constantly reminded our team) that we needed to win the match by more than that amount to win the Cup. It also meant that the burden of winning fell largely on Harry, poor bloke, because capturing the Snitch was worth one hundred and fifty points.

The whole of Gryffindor House was obsessed with the coming match. Gryffindor hadn't won the Quidditch Cup since the legendary Charlie Weasley had been Seeker. I would have known this without anyone else informing me because Charlie mentions the fact just about every time I see him.

Never, in anyone's memory, had a match approached in such a highly charged atmosphere. By the time the holidays were over, tension between the two teams and our Houses was at the breaking point. A number of small scuffles broke out in the corridors, culminating in a nasty incident in which a Gryffindor fourth year and a Slytherin sixth year ended up in the hospital wing with leeks sprouting out of their ears. The twins and I may or may not have instigated the row.

Harry was having a particularly bad time of it, though we all were. We couldn't walk to class without Slytherins sticking out their legs and trying to trip the lot of us up; Crabbe and Goyle kept popping up wherever we went, and slouching away looking disappointed when they saw us surrounded by people. Wood had given specific instructions that Harry should be accompanied everywhere he went, in case the Slytherins tried to put him out of action. The whole of Gryffindor House took up the challenge enthusiastically, so that it was impossible for Harry to get to classes on time because he was surrounded by a vast, chattering crowd. It was rather humorous actually. All usual pursuits were abandoned in the Gryffindor common room the night before the match. Even Hermione had put down her books. The only thing that kept my mind off the match was the fact that the twins and I would be celebrating our birthdays the night before. Firewhiskey would be involved, no doubt, my mortal enemy. I'd vomited in Molly's house slippers last time I'd met my old alcoholic friend not to mention another incident I'd prefer to have obliviated from my mind for eternity... I'd been tearing my hair out lately, thinking of my new found ability, the impending Quidditch match against Slytherin, those dreadful O.W.L. Exams looming in the near future and not even mentioning my uneasy feelings that had began to grow for a certain comical redhead. I needed some Firewhiskey in my system to calm my nerves, but little did I know that alcohol is not only the solution to life's problems but can sometimes be the cause...

–

The twins and I had invited Lee, Ang, Kates, and regretfully Alicia to meet us in the common room at midnight to celebrate our _sort of_ turning sixteen together. We wanted to avoid the always nosy Percy from ruining our fun. Fred, George, and I had gone down early to exchange gifts that were about deep as a puddle. We held our hands behind our backs, each already knowing the other's gift. We still teased one another by swaying our hips from side to side and looking slyly up at the ceiling with matching devious grins.

"On the count of three," Fred smiled. "One— two— three..."

We each pulled our hands from behind our backs and proudly displayed our gifts, six bottles of Firewhiskey between us, one in each of our hands. Each of us grabbed our chests as if we were being given diamonds and didn't expect it in the slightest. We exchanged bottles for good comedic measure Fred to George, George to me, and me to Fred.

"Oh, boys, you shouldn't have," I beamed.

"How did you two know?" George laughed as if we'd read his mind.

"I had no idea," Fred joked, "what a total and complete surprise."

We were popping the tops off our bottles in a fit of giggled as the other four invitees came down their opposing staircases. I noticed Alicia look as if she was going to vomit when she laid eyes on the Firewhiskey. I knew she didn't drink which only made me appreciate the alcoholic beverage all the more. We dove into the bottles, each of us (minus Alicia) sipping on our own bottle. I had managed to finish off my entire bottle and moved onto the spare before anyone else had reached halfway through theirs.

"Make sure to come up for air," Fred teased me. "You remember what happened last time you went overboard on the Firewhiskey."

"Oh, sod off," I blushed, taking another healthy gulp. I was determined to forget my worries for one night and it was working thus far as the room started spinning.

"What happened?" asked Kates curiously.

The twins exchanged wicked smiles while I sent them a _Don't-You-Dare_ glare.

"Nothing much," said Fred, smirking deviously. "We were celebrating Percy's birthday last July with a few bottles of Firewhiskey, though to be fare Percy drank more than anyone which was a first, but Winnie was a close second, and proceeded to end her night by snogging Percy for a good twenty minutes on the kitchen table."

"Fred and I couldn't force ourselves to eat off it for weeks," said George.

"Percy couldn't remember a thing, but we;ll never forget," said Fred, smiling to himself.

I punched his arm and stuck out my tongue.

"That never happened," I protested.

"We have pictures," said George.

"You promised me you destroyed those!" I objected.

"Oh, we did," said Fred, "but thanks for admitting your guilt."

"Ugh," I groaned. "Sometimes I seriously question why I'm friends with the likes of you two."

"Whatever, you love us," said Fred humorously, ruffling my hair and pulling me against him for a hug.

After about two or more hours of nonsensical giggling later Katie suggested a game of Truth or Dare. I would have opposed the idea if I hadn't become so drunk that everything sounded wonderful. Everyone else was finally beginning to catch up to my intoxication level, everyone but Alicia of course. It had begun pretty boring, dares to take long drinks of the whiskey and truths involving the person's favorite somethings or other. However, it took a humorous turn for the better or possibly considered worse in the blink of an eye.

"Truth or Dare?" Katie asked Angelina.

"Dare," she replied.

"I dare you to kiss... Fred," Katie giggled.

Big deal. We'd seen them snog before, so no one was that amused when they leaned across the circle to lock lips with one another.

"Lee, truth or dare?" asked Angelina.

"Truth," said Lee.

"Who do you fancy?" she inquired.

"Come now, Ang," Lee smirked. "I think we're a bit more mature than that."

"Speak for yourself," I laughed much to hard.

"Fine," he scoffed. "I guess I sort of think Dylan is pretty cute."

"That Ravenclaw girl?" asked Angelina. "Aw, Lee—"

"Shut it, Angelina," he said. "Alicia, truth or dare?"

"Truth," she smiled.

"Same question," he yawned. "I'm no good at truths, I'm more of a dare person."

"Oh, that's a bit of a personal question," she blushed, batting her eyelashes coyly at a specific redhead.

"Come off it, Leesh, we all know you like George," I hiccuped, rolling my eyes at her. "Next."

"Whatever," she spat, narrowing her eyes at me. "Winnie, truth or dare?"

"Dare," I hiccuped again, covering my mouth and laughing to myself.

"I dare you to run down the corridor in nothing but her underwear," said Alicia deviously, believing me to chicken to do it.

However, I had already began to take off my shirt and was pulling down my pants before she could pester me. I probably wouldn't have done it if I didn't remember I was wearing matching underwear to my navy polka-dotted bra. Everyone's jaws dropped to the floor as I stood in the middle of the floor in my skivvies. I popped out my leg with my hands proudly resting on my hips. I think the immense amount of alcohol that was pickling my liver may have added to my sudden self-confidence.

"Winnie, don't you dare—" Angelina warned, but it was too late.

I had already turned to run out the portrait hole, my comrades... and Alicia's... hurried footsteps to watch could be heard behind me. They poked their heads out of the portrait hole, three peeking around from each side. I felt free as a bird as my bare feet slapped against the cool, refreshing stone floor. I bet I would never live this moment down, running half-naked down the corridor in the middle of the night. I also probably would never live down the fact that I ran square into Professor Snape just before I reached the end of the corridor, and when I say ran square into, I mean it. I face-planted against his chest, stumbling backwards at the sheer shock of it all. Snape's black eyes looked down at me and even in the darkness I could see him blush.

"Oops sorry, Professor," I said dumbly.

Several monosyllabic grunts came from Snape's mouth, his lips opening and closing a few times while his eyes struggled to remain linked with my own. I honestly don't think he'd ever seen so much bare skin on a female in his entire life, and I doubt he ever would again. Finally, after an awkward minute or two he shot his wand hand forward, pointing at the open portrait hole. I spotted six heads dart inside at the last second.

"—bed— now—" were the only two words he could muster.

I saluted him in my drunken stupor and surprised him even more so by running directly forward to touch my hand to the end of the stone corridor to complete my dare before sprinting back to the portrait hole. Dare complete. Suck on that, Alicia Spinnet. I re-entered the common room to a group of five hysterically laughing teenagers, one was sulking. One guess who. I bowed to my audience like I had just won an award before pulling back on my clothes.

"That was legitimately the funniest thing I have ever seen!" Lee choked out through his laughter.

"He didn't even give you a detention!" Fred chuckled. "Now if that was me then Merlin knows he'd call me a barmpot and would've given me a month's worth of cauldron scrubbing!"

"If you ran down the corridor in a polka-dot bra and panties then I'd half to agree with him," I teased, sending the group into a fit of laughter again.

After a few more gulps of Firewhiskey, eyelids were noticeably beginning to droop as the clock turned towards four in the morning.

"Well, Freddie, I think you have officially made it impossible for this night to get any better," said Lee, wiping a humor-induced tear from his eye. "Therefore, I'm going to turn in, Merlin knows I need to be on my game with that megaphone the same as you lot do on your brooms."

"I think the same goes for us," said Katie, yawning and motioning towards Ang and Alicia.

"Happy Birthday," said the four in unison before departing up their designated staircases.

"Night," I giggled after them, taking another sip of Firewhiskey and enjoying how wonderful I felt. I fell onto my back, clutching the bottle in my hands and closing my eyes to allow myself to become engulfed by the intoxicating feeling of inebriation. I heard a thump as George fell back beside me, mocking my motions. Fred took one final gulp and threw the now empty bottle away. I had the sole remaining bottle of liquor that was nearly empty as well.

"I'm going upstairs to bed before I come to terms with how utterly sloshed I am," he said, hiccuping briefly, "but by all means stay and sleep here. I'll just use Percy's erratic screams as my wake-up call."

"Uh-huh," George and I mumbled in response, too tired to open our mouths.

Fred stumbled up the staircase, barely catching himself before plummeting face first onto the stone steps. George rolled over onto his side and began snickering uncontrollably in a drunken sort of way that automatically caused me to join in, unaware of what was so funny. I pushed myself onto my side to see George's smiling face.

"What?" I laughed.

"The look on Snape's face when you—" he couldn't control his giggles, unable to finish his sentence. "That was the funniest thing I've seen in ages."

"I'm glad my public nudity amuses you," I smirked, taking a hefty swig of the Firewhiskey and successfully finishing off the last bottle. I let it drop above my head which felt as if it were floating above my body anyhow.

"You know if you looked like Millicent Bulstrode then you'd be sitting in Dumbledore's office as we speak," he grinned.

"Why, George Weasley, was that some lame attempt to compliment me?" I teased, pinching his cheek in jest.

"Maybe," he smiled deviously.

"Aw, you think I'm pretty," I sung in some moronic tune.

"Shut it," he replied.

"You think I'm gorgeous," I continued to sing. "You looovvvee me."

"I said, shut your gob," he smirked.

"You want to marry me," I sang, "hug me and kiss m—"

Before I could finish George had pressed his lips against mine, cutting me off. I knew I should have pulled away, explained why I shouldn't be kissing him, but I didn't. I gently placed my hand on the side of his face and kissed him back. It felt like I was touching my fingertips to a crystal ball, that same electrifying and addicting feeling that I was accustomed to. It was like every fiber of my being was alive and alert to every sense I possessed, consuming my very being. I couldn't tell you what made me pull away, maybe it was the fact I had a boyfriend or maybe it was because I was too drunk to remember how to breathe, but I finally did break our lip lock. Our eyes didn't break however, both of our expressions exhumed sheer terror. Neither of us knew what to say or what to do next.

George somehow managed to clamor to his feet, unsteadily standing over me. I knelt on my knees, peering up at him and begging him to say something, anything.

"Er— It— It's getting late," said George uneasily, scratching the back of his neck, "I best... Quidditch tomorrow, you know— goodnight—"

Without another illiterate word, George wobbled towards the staircase and climbed up to his bedroom, leaving me in a stunned silence. I reached my hand up to my mouth and delicately touched my fingertips to my tingling lips before bringing them back as if something was supposed to show up on my fingers. I abruptly held my face in my hands, shaking from side to side in disgust. George kissed me, and I kissed him back... and it felt right. But what about Oliver? I still had feelings for him, strong feelings, but I'd kissed someone else. I wished I'd never drank that incessant Firewhiskey. My mind would have been working at full capacity if I hadn't ingested so much alcohol. If George returned the same feelings I felt then I was going to have to break up with Oliver. It wasn't fare to him. I threw the empty Firewhiskey bottle away and gradually climbed the steps up to my bedroom, collapsing on my bed and no matter how tired and drunk I was... I couldn't sleep.

–

I'd maybe gotten an hour of sleep because when I came to the next morning my head felt like I'd been hit by a semi truck. I gripped the side of my head, rubbing my temples furiously. The light made my eyes shoot unbearable pains throughout my aching skull. Angelina and Katie looked like they were struggling to cope from the events of the previous night as well seeing as Katie had put her shirt on inside out and backwards but was too lethargic to fix her appearance. Angelina had put her shoes on the wrong feet. I'd slept in my clothes from the night before and had no intention of changing. The thought of kissing George replayed in my mind, haunting my conscience. After throwing my hair up on a messy ponytail and slipping on my shoes, I descended the stairs like a sloth. The twins were in the common room, speaking excitedly with Ron and Harry. They amazed me by their ability to avoid hangovers. I'd always envied them for it.

I noticed George caught a glimpse of me, his eyes lingering onto me whilst still carrying on with his two brothers and Harry. I swallowed hard and descended the rest of the stairs, wondering how awkward this was going to be. My guess,_ really_ awkward. I gathered the last of my liquid courage that remained in my system and walked up to the four boys.

"George, could I have a word?" I asked quietly, grabbing onto his elbow and directing him towards the portrait hole.

"I'll do you one better," he smirked, as if he had no idea what I was about to speak to him about. "How about two words?"

"Funny," I said sarcastically, "but really, follow me."

I took his wrist and pulled him after me, making sure the Fat Lady and the security trolls were out of earshot before I began.

"What's wrong?" asked George. "Nervous about the match, are you?"

"You're joking?" I scoffed, waiting for him to cut the shit but he didn't. "We kissed, George."

"Yeah...?" he said, looking at me as if I had just declared the sky blue.

"Um, I'm sorry," I said indignantly. "Am I just overreacting to his or—"

"We were both drinking, Freddie, what do you want me to say?" he asked. "Do you want me to declare my undying love or—"

"Well, it would be nice of you weren't am arsehole about it for starters," I frowned.

"What, why are you making such a big deal out of this?" he shrugged.

"Pardon me," I said, placing a hand on my chest pretending to dramatically apologize. "I guess I'm just being melodramatic. I mean, I do snog my best friend on a daily basis."

"You were a better kisser than I expected by the way," he teased, ignoring my prior sentiment.

"George," I warned.

"What do you want, Winnie?" he inquired in a much more serious tone.

"Nothing," I snapped. "I just—"

"You don't fancy me or something, do you?" he asked, raising a curious brow.

"W— What?" I stammered. "N— No, of course not. That's ridiculous, but y— you, I mean, you don't fancy me either of course, right?"

His smile fell for a moment, but I knew he tried to fight its demise before forcing it to return.

"Now, what kind of question is that?" he smirked.

"I don't know," I shrugged. "You asked me first, but answering the question with a different question isn't—"

"Because you should already know the answer," he said simply.

"But I don't—"

George suddenly engulfed me in a hug, cutting me off. My arms were pinned at my sides, but I wouldn't have hugged him back even if I could budge.

"It doesn't matter even if my answer was 'yes,'" he said quietly. "You know as well as I do that it would never work between us."

_Why, because we're too perfect for each other?_

"You're confusing the hell out of me," I sighed heavily.

"Let's just forget that kiss ever happened," he said.

"That's what you want?" I asked.

"It's what I _need_," he replied, pulling away and holding me before him while he looked down into my eyes.

"Does that mean—"

"It means that you're my best friend in the entire world," he said firmly. "It means that I would never let anything jeopardize that."

"G—"

"Please, Freddie," he pleaded, "I let Alicia's snotty comments go for you. Now, do this for me."

My mouth opened and closed a couple times before I finally conceded to nodding up at him. He smiled in reply, wrapped his arms around my shoulders and led me back into the common room to kill time before our match. I was so confused that I barely participated in any conversation before we left to eat breakfast. My mind was swimming in bewilderment. George never denied his feelings, though I stupidly did. Whenever I was pushed into a corner I always defended myself by denying whatever I was really feeling. Now I felt like a chicken with its head cut off, stumbling around like I had no idea what to do next. I guess if George didn't fancy me like he claimed, though I knew it was a lie, I had no reason to return nonexistent feelings. I had a boyfriend, a boyfriend who cared about me as much as I cared about him. Why couldn't I just be happy with that? Shouldn't that be enough? Whatever, if he wanted to forget it then I'd do just that... no matter how hard that might be.

–

The Gryffindor team entered the Great Hall the next day to enormous applause. I couldn't help grinning broadly as I saw that both the Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff tables were applauding us too. The Slytherin table hissed loudly as we passed which only made me more excited to see their bloody faces after we walloped them, literally. I noticed that that little termite Draco Malfoy looked even paler than usual.

Oliver spent the whole of breakfast urging our team to eat, while touching nothing himself. Then he hurried us off to the field before anyone else had finished, so we could get an idea of the conditions. As we left the Great Hall, everyone applauded again.

"Good luck, Gryffindor!" called Maddy Crouch, her friend Dylan and the rest of their friends from Ravenclaw.

"Okay — no wind to speak of — sun's a bit bright, that could impair your vision, watch out for it — ground's fairly hard, good, that'll give us a fast kickoff—"

"He's rather odd, you know," George smirked, leaning over to whisper in my ear. "He's even talking to himself now."

"As long as no one talks back I think he'll be alright," I laughed, looking over at the self-consumed Oliver along side George and Fred.

Oliver paced the field, staring around with the team behind him. Finally, they saw the front doors of the castle open in the distance and the rest of the school spilling onto the lawn.

"Locker rooms," said Wood tersely. I had to bite the inside of my mouth to prevent myself from laughing at hoe much of a nervous wreck he was.

None of us spoke as we changed into our scarlet robes. I knew everyone was feeling like I was: as though I'd eaten something extremely wriggly for breakfast. In what seemed like no time at all, Wood was saying, "Okay, it's time, let's go—"

We walked out onto the field to a tidal wave of noise. Three quarters of the crowd was wearing scarlet rosettes, waving scarlet flags with the Gryffindor lion upon them, or brandishing banners with slogans like "GO GRYFFINDOR!" and "LIONS FOR THE CUP." Behind the Slytherin goal posts, however, two hundred people were wearing green; the silver serpent of Slytherin glittered on their flags, and Professor Snape sat in the very front row, wearing green like everyone else, and a very grim smile.

"And here are the Gryffindors!" yelled Lee Jordan, who was acting as commentator as usual. "Potter, Bell, Johnson, McKinnon, Weasley, Weasley, and Wood. Widely acknowledged as the best team Hogwarts has seen in a good few years—"

Lee's comments were drowned by a tide of 'boos' from the Slytherin end.

"And here come the Slytherin team, led by Captain Montague. He's made some changes in the lineup and seems to be going for size rather than skill—"

More boos from the Slytherin crowd. I, however, thought Lee had a point. Draco Malfoy was easily the smallest person On the Slytherin team; the rest of them were enormous, especially the barmy git himself: Montague.

"Captains, shake hands!" said Madam Hooch.

Graham and Ollie approached each other and grasped each other's hand very tightly; it looked as though each was trying to break the other's fingers. Both of their jaws were locked, Oliver's eyes appeared to be aflame.

"Mount your brooms!" said Madam Hooch. "Three… two… one…"

The sound of her whistle was lost in the roar from the crowd as fourteen brooms rose into the air.

"And it's Gryffindor in possession, Winnie McKinnon of Gryffindor with the Quaffle, heading straight for the Slytherin goal posts, looking good, Freddie! Argh, no — Quaffle intercepted by Warrington, Warrington of Slytherin tearing UP the field — WHAM! — nice Bludger work there by George Weasley, Warrington drops the Quaffle, it's caught by — Johnson, Gryffindor back in possession, come on, Angelina — nice swerve around Montague — duck, Angelina, that's a Bludger! – SHE SCORES! TEN-ZERO TO GRYFFINDOR!"

Angelina punched the air as she soared around the end of the field; the sea of scarlet below was screaming its delight. She met me halfway and high-fived my leather-gloved hand.

"OUCH!"

Angelina and I were nearly thrown from our brooms as Marcus Flint went smashing into her and like a domino effect, thrashed into me as she was jolted sideways.

"Sorry!" said Flint as the crowd below booed. "Sorry, didn't see her!"

A moment later, Fred chucked his Beater's club at the back of Flint's head. Flint's nose smashed into the handle of his broom and began to bleed.

"Sorry, didn't see him!" shouted Fred, swooping down to retrieve his club with a satisfied grin across his face.

"That will do!" shrieked Madam Hooch, zooming between then. "Penalty shot to Gryffindor for an unprovoked attack on their Chaser! Penalty shot to Slytherin for deliberate damage to their Chaser!"

"Come off it, Miss!" howled Fred, but Madam Hooch blew her whistle and I flew forward to take the penalty.

"Come on, Freddie!" yelled Lee into the silence that had descended on the crowd. "YES! SHE'S BEATEN THE KEEPER! TWENTY-ZERO TO GRYFFINDOR!"

I quickly turned my Nimbus sharply to watch Flint, still bleeding freely, fly forward to take the Slytherin penalty. Ollie was hovering in front of the Gryffindor goal posts, his jaw clenched.

"'Course, Wood's a superb Keeper!" Lee Jordan told the crowd as Flint waited for Madam Hooch's whistle.

"Superb! Very difficult to pass — very difficult indeed — YES! I DON'T BELIEVE IT! HE'S SAVED IT!"

Relieved, I zoomed away on defense, but not before sending him a prideful smile, while still making sure I wasn't distracted enough to miss even a word of Lee's entertaining commentary.

"Gryffindor in possession, no, Slytherin in possession — no! Gryffindor back in possession and it's Katie Bell, Katie Bell for Gryffindor with the Quaffle, she's streaking up the field — THAT WAS DELIBERATE!"

Montague, the largest Slytherin Chaser, had swerved in front of Kates, and instead of seizing the Quaffle had grabbed her head. Katie cart-wheeled in the air, managed to stay on her broom, but dropped the Quaffle.

Madam Hooch's whistle rang out again as she soared over to Montague and began shouting at him. I took this revenge upon myself. I took hold of the Quaffle and threw it with all my might at Montague, hitting him square in the face. More blood splattered from his nose than Flint's even, and my insides swelled with approval of my violent action.

"McKinnon, restrain yourself!" Madam Hooch bellowed, "Penalty for Slytherin as well!"

A minute later, Kates had put another penalty past the Slytherin Keeper, Adrian Pucey, while Fred and George flew by to pat me on the back, their stamp of approval.

"THIRTY-ZERO! TAKE THAT, YOU DIRTY, CHEATING F—"

"Jordan, if you can't commentate in an unbiased way—"

"I'm telling it like it is, Professor!"

Graham had unfortunately scored his penalty as well, but his instantly visible bruise made everything worth it.

"Montague scores," Lee commented reluctantly.

Angelina had the Quaffle in her hand, zooming towards the Slytherin Keeper, kicked it to Katie who through it to me. I skyrocketed upwards to wave off Montague, who was following much too closely. He whispered something sexually grotesque in my ear before I plummeted downwards to pry him off my tail.

WHOOSH.

One of the Bludgers came streaking past my right ear, hit by the gigantic Slytherin Beater, Derrick. Then again…

WHOOSH.

The second Bludger grazed my elbow. The other Beater, Bole, was closing in.

I had a fleeting glimpse of Bole and Derrick zooming toward me, clubs raised — I turned my Nimbus back upward at the last second, and Bole and Derrick collided with a sickening crunch. I smiled pleasantly at the collision before tossing in another goal past Adrian Pucey.

"Ha haaa!" yelled Lee Jordan as the Slytherin Beaters lurched away from each other, clutching their heads. "Too bad, boys! You'll need to get up earlier than that to beat Freddie! And Gryffindor intercepts possession again, as Johnson takes the Quaffle — Flint alongside her — poke him in the eye, Angie! — it was a joke, Professor, it was a joke — oh no — Flint in possession, Flint flying toward the Gryffindor goal posts, come on now, Wood, save —!"

But Flint had scored; there was an eruption of cheers from the Slytherin end, and Lee swore so badly that Professor McGonagall tried to tug the magical megaphone away from him.

"Sorry, Professor, sorry! Won't happen again! So, Gryffindor in the lead, forty points to ten, and Gryffindor in possession—"

It was turning into the dirtiest game I had ever played in. Enraged that Gryffindor had taken such an early lead, the Slytherins were rapidly resorting to any means to take the Quaffle. Bole hit me with his club and tried to say he'd thought I was a Bludger. _Idiot_. George elbowed Bole in the face in retaliation. Madam Hooch awarded both teams penalties, and Oliver pulled off another spectacular save, making the score fifty-ten to Gryffindor.

Kates scored. Sixty-ten. Fred and George were swooping around her, clubs raised, in case any of the Slytherins were thinking of revenge. Bole and Derrick took advantage of Fred's and George's absence to aim both Bludgers at Wood; they caught him in the stomach, one after the other, and he rolled over in the air, clutching his broom, completely winded. I, of course, _accidentally_ kicked Derrick aside his face and nearly knocked him from his broomstick. Madam Hooch miraculously missed my retaliation, thankfully. However, the Slytherins didn't and continued to boo me. I was eating it up.

Madam Hooch was beside herself—

"YOU DO NOT ATTACK THE KEEPER UNLESS THE QUAFFLE IS WITHIN THE SCORING AREA!" she shrieked at Bole and the now bleeding Derrick. "Gryffindor penalty!"

And Angelina scored. Seventy-ten. Moments later, Fred pelted a Bludger at Warrington, knocking the Quaffle out of his hands; I seized it and put it through the Slytherin goal — eighty-ten.

The Gryffindor crowd below was screaming itself hoarse — Gryffindor was seventy points in the lead, and if Harry caught the Snitch now, the Cup was ours. I could feel hundreds of eyes following him as he soared around the field, high above the rest of the game, with Draco Malfoy speeding along behind him.

Harry had spotted the Snitch but his opposition had illegally prevented him from pursuing it. Malfoy had thrown himself forward, grabbed hold of the Firebolt's tail, and was pulling it back.

"You—" I heard Harry bellow from below me.

Harry looked angry enough to hit Malfoy, but obviously couldn't reach — Malfoy was panting with the effort of holding onto the Firebolt, but his eyes were sparkling maliciously. He had achieved what he'd wanted to do — the Snitch had disappeared again.

"Penalty! Penalty to Gryffindor! I've never seen such tactics." Madam Hooch screeched, shooting up to where Malfoy was sliding back onto his Nimbus Two Thousand and One. I hated the fact that Malfoy and I owned and rode the same brooms.

"YOU CHEATING SCUM!" Lee was howling into the megaphone, dancing out of Professor McGonagall's reach. "YOU FILTHY, CHEATING B—"

Professor McGonagall didn't even bother to tell him off. She was actually shaking her finger in Malfoy's direction, her hat had fallen off, and she too was shouting furiously. I couldn't help but smile as I made a mental picture of that.

Angelina took Gryffindor's penalty, but she was so angry she missed by several feet. Our team was losing concentration and the Slytherins, delighted by Malfoy's foul on Harry, were being spurred on to greater heights.

"Slytherin in possession, Slytherin heading for goal — Montague scores—" Lee groaned. "Seventy-twenty to Gryffindor… No matter how many goals you score, you still will never score with Freddie, you low-life b—"

I blushed furiously and shot Lee a nasty glare from embarrassment before zooming after the Quaffle that was now in possession of Angelina.

"Angelina Johnson gets the Quaffle for Gryffindor, come on, Angelina, COME ON!"

I looked around. Every single Slytherin player apart from Malfoy was streaking up the pitch toward Angelina, including the Slytherin Keeper — they were all going to block her — I saw Harry wheeling the Firebolt around, bent so low he was lying flat along the handle, and kicked it forward. Like a bullet, he shot toward the Slytherins.

"AAAAAAARRRGH!"

They scattered as the Firebolt zoomed toward them; Angelina's way was clear. I couldn't help but applaud.

"SHE SCORES! SHE SCORES! Gryffindor leads by eighty Points to twenty!"

Harry, who had almost pelted headlong into the stands, skidded to a halt in midair, reversed, and zoomed back into the middle of the field. Malfoy was diving, a look of triumph on his face— there, a few feet above the grass below, I saw a tiny, golden glimmer—

Harry urged the Firebolt downward, but Malfoy was miles ahead— He was gaining on Malfoy — Harry flattened himself to the broom handle as Bole sent a Bludger at him — he was at Malfoy's ankles — he was level now— Harry threw himself forward, took both hands off his broom. He knocked Malfoy's arm out of the way and—

"YES!" was all I could say from my moment of pure euphoria as I watched Harry wrap his fingers around the Snitch.

Harry pulled out of his dive, his hand in the air, and the stadium exploded. Harry soared above the crowd. The tiny golden ball was held tight in his fist, beating its wings hopelessly against his fingers.

Then Oliver was speeding toward him, half-blinded by tears; he seized Harry around the neck and sobbed unrestrainedly into his shoulder. Yes, ladies and gentlemen, that's my boyfriend, the one crying his eyes out and using a thirteen year old's sleeve for a tissue. Harry was bombarded with two large thumps as Fred and George hit he and Ollie; then Angelina's, Katie's, and my own voices, "We've won the Cup! We've won the Cup!" Tangled together in a many-armed hug, the entire team sank, yelling hoarsely, back to earth.

Wave upon wave of crimson supporters were pouring over the barriers onto the field. Hands were raining down on our backs. Harry must have had a confused impression of noise and bodies pressing in on him. Then he, and the rest of us, were hoisted onto the shoulders of the crowd. There was Percy, jumping up and down like a maniac, all dignity forgotten for one crystallizing moment. Professor McGonagall was sobbing harder even than Oliver, wiping her eyes with an enormous Gryffindor flag. We all simply beamed as Ollie was borne toward the stands, where Dumbledore stood waiting with the enormous Quidditch Cup.

We were placed back on the ground, and I flew into Oliver's arms, kissing his cheek as Angelina and Katie had done before me. His face was salty and moist from his tears of joy, and his smile screamed sheer euphoria. He pulled me into an intimate embrace, and I spotted George over my shoulder lifting Ginny into a celebratory bear-like hug. My smile faded for a moment, remembering our disastrous conversation from the morning. I felt Ollie's warm breath near my ear while my gaze remained on George.

"I love you, Winnie," he whispered in my ear. "I love you."

"I love you too," I said, realizing I may have not been thinking of Oliver when I said it. However, it was too late. I'd returned the sentiment already, even though I wasn't completely sure I'd meant it. There was no taking it back now.

–

_**A/N: **__I promise I'll return to my shout outs next chapter. I didn't have time this chapter, sorry! I really love doing those, so comment and I'll write back! Thanks for reviewing all of you! Help me reach 275 reviews, and I will love you forever. Only one long chapter left before I leave for England on Sunday. I finished the 2,000 work prologue for Part II titled "Star-Crossed," so I'll give you more info on that at the end of chapter 15!_

_**PS: **__Oh yeah, I used my own last name for Cassandra and Olaf's prior surname. Woo! I was drawing a blank for something that sounded good and my great-uncle is named Olaf and my Dad's name is Vlad, so I just used their entire names instead of just stealing his first name. Ha! _

_**PSS: **__Anyways, this was a pretty big chapter. We find out about Winnie's family, she and George FINALLY kiss, and Ollie tells her he loves her. Wow. I hope you guys weren't disappointed that Winnie and George didn't like confess their undying love to one another, but that just isn't them. I'm not forcing them into a relationship so soon. Their characters need to develop towards one another more because right now they're too immature to be together in my opinion. They need go through some rough patched to realize how much they mean to one another etc. You'll understand later on._

_**The Final Chapter of Part I:**__ The twins find out about Winnie and Oliver, Alicia is a git, Winnie accepts an offer from Oliver that she can't resist, OWL exams, drama and hilarity ensue..._

–

_**Review.**_


	15. Chapter 15: The OWL Exams

_**Chapter Fifteen**_

_The O.W.L. Exams_

–

_It is sometimes much harder to forgive an enemy  
than it is to forgive a friend._

–

Our euphoria at finally winning the Quidditch Cup lasted at least a week. Even the weather seemed to be celebrating Gryffindor's success; as June approached, the days became cloudless and sultry, and all anybody felt like doing was strolling onto the grounds and flopping down on the grass with several pints of iced pumpkin juice, perhaps playing a casual game of Gobstones or watching the giant squid propel itself dreamily across the surface of the lake.

But we couldn't. Exams were nearly upon us, and instead of lazing around outside, the students were forced to remain inside the castle, trying to bully their brains into concentrating while enticing wafts of summer air drifted in through the windows. Even Fred and George could be spotted working; considering we all were about to take their O.W.L.s (Ordinary Wizarding Levels). Percy was getting ready to take his N.E.W.T.s (Nastily Exhausting Wizarding Tests), the highest qualification Hogwarts offered. As Percy hoped to enter the Ministry of Magic, he needed top grades. He was becoming increasingly edgy, and gave very severe punishments to anybody who disturbed the quiet of the common room in the evenings. In fact, the only person who seemed more anxious than Percy was Hermione Granger.

I was continuously anxious after my intimate moment with Oliver and my kiss with George. Things between George and I remained the same. We acted as if the kiss never happened though I knew he thought about the night of our birthdays as much as I did. That drove me insane. With the second term drawing to a close I knew my remaining time to tell the twins about Oliver and I was shrinking. I was going to have to tell them soon before I was forced into listening to another ear full from Angelina. Oliver had planned this special end of the year dinner date with me, and I planned on running by my speech I would give to the twins by him before going to speak with them that night. Our date was before our Potions final, so I hoped things didn't go too terribly bad to the point that I couldn't get a decent grade... though the likelihood I would get a decent grade even without countering in my situation with the twins and Oliver was slim to none.

My first exam was Astronomy at midnight, up on the tallest tower; History of Magic on Wednesday morning, in which I scribbled everything Florean Fortescue had ever told me about medieval witch-hunts, while wishing I could have had one of Fortescue's choconut sundaes with me in the stifling classroom. Wednesday afternoon meant Herbology, in the greenhouses under a baking-hot sun; then back to the common room once more, with sunburnt necks, thinking longingly of this time next day, when it would all be over. Oliver had tutored me so much in Herbology that I actually expected to get an O.W.L. in the previously impossible class.

Our third to last exam, on Thursday morning, was Defense Against the Dark Arts. Professor Lupin had compiled the most unusual exam any of them had ever taken; a sort of obstacle course outside in the sun, where we had to wade across a deep paddling pool containing a Grindylow, cross a series of potholes full of Red Caps, squish their way across a patch of marsh while ignoring misleading directions from a Hinkypunk, then climb into an old trunk and battle with a new Boggart.

"Excellent, Miss McKinnon," Lupin muttered as I climbed out of the trunk, grinning. "Full marks."

Flushed with his success, I hung around to watch Fred and George. George did very well until he reached the Hinkypunk, which successfully confused him into sinking waist-high into the quagmire. Fred did everything perfectly until he reached the trunk with the Boggart in it. After about a minute inside it, he burst out again, screaming.

"What the bleeding hell did you see?" I laughed at him along side George.

"It was Percy," he breathed heavily, clutching his chest. "H– He'd brought Mum to school a– and they'd found the m– map–"

"Stop!" George objected. "The horror of those first few words strike sheer terror down my spine without any further explanation."

My second to last exam was Divination; Fred and George's, Muggle Studies. We walked up the marble staircase together; where many of our class were sitting on the spiral staircase to Professor Trelawney's classroom, trying to cram in a bit of last-minute studying.

"She's seeing us all separately," Roger Davies informed Angelina, Alicia, and I as we went to sit down next to him. He had his copy of _Horrifying Horoscopes _open on his lap at the pages devoted to the meanings of different astrological signs. "Have either of you ever seen anything in a crystal ball?" he asked them unhappily.

"Winnie can," Angelina replied to the Ravenclaw Captain, "but Leesh and I tend to just wing our observations."

"Just tell her you see death and destruction, Davies," I shrugged. "She eats that shit up."

"Sounds like a plan," said Roger. "Thanks, Win."

I was used to Divination exams. I never studied, always received top marks, and now I knew why. Professor Trelawney smiled at me from behind her soda bottle like glasses as I entered her room alone. The woman loved me, and I could understand why that was a fact now as well. She sat casually in her enormous armchair as she always did, a crystal ball between us as I took my seat across from her.

"Good evening, Miss McKinnon," she beamed.

"Evening, Professor," I nodded, trying to make myself comfortable.

"All you must do to successfully pass your O.W.L. is simply make a proper prediction using this crystal all," she explained. "You may begin whenever you wish."

I nodded curtly and wasted no time diving into my assignment. I placed my fingertips lightly upon the crystal ball and allowed the electricity to engulf my entire body, feeling my eyes roll into the back of my head for a moment. Leaning in close to the glass the mist began to clear, illuminating the image within. I gasped briefly as towering flames encompassed the ball, countless faceless people sprinting from an invisible threat. What was most unsettling was the fact that the smoke from the fire allowed for a quick glimpse at the sky, the Dark Mark was as clear as day.

"I see the Dark Mark," I began breathlessly, feeling Professor Trelawney lean in towards the crystal ball. "I see chaos and fire, hundreds– no, thousands of people frantically running for safety."

"Can you see the location of this disaster?" she asked, almost anxiously.

"N– No," I replied uneasily. "It isn't clear."

I hoped, for once, this prediction wouldn't be seen by me.

–

Alicia Spinnet tore her bedding apart, clawing through her things in search of her treasured teddy bear that she had possessed since she was a mere baby. Her grandfather had given it to her as a first birthday present and ever since then it had always held a special piece of her heart. It was more of security blanket than anything, and she was very anxious at the idea of her stuffed animal being out of place.

"Bleeding hell," she sighed heavily so that Angelina (whom was laying down on her own bed with her Potions textbook in her hands) would hear her.

"What's wrong?" asked Angelina, not looking up from her book.

"I can't find Teddy," she frowned.

"That bear of yours or whatever it is?" she replied.

"Yeah," said Alicia. "I can't find him, do you think Winnie is playing a prank or something. You know, hid it from me?"

"Doubtful," said Angelina indifferently. "Freddie enjoys a good prank, but she was never one for thievery to achieve a laugh."

"I wouldn't put it past her," Alicia disagreed. "I'm going to look through her things, and I wager that I'll find it."

Alicia didn't wait another second before striding to Winnie's unoccupied bed and looking under her pillows and blankets. May, who was snoozing on the edge of the bed, hissed viciously at her for invading her territory.

"Alicia, stop that," said Angelina hastily, sitting up straight and looking over at her for the first time. "What you're doing is a complete invasion of privacy."

"Like she's never done the same to me," she said, unconcerned with her inappropriate actions. "She's utterly–"

The strawberry blonde headed girl froze as a torn piece of parchment fell out of Winnie's pillowcase onto the comforter upon her bed. Angelina looked from the parchment to Alicia and back again. She knew that whatever that paper said, it was not for anyone's eyes other than Winnie's. She quickly rose to her feet to attempt to save her best friend's property from being violated any further. However, Alicia was too quick. She snatched up the letter and began reading it before Angelina could stop her. Alicia read the not allowed.

_Winnie,_

_I hope you're ready for one romantic evening,  
__meet me up in the Clock Tower at 19:00 sharp._

_Love,  
__Oliver_

"No way," Alicia breathed shallowly. "Winnie with Oliver Wood? I don't believe it."

"Alicia–"

"Do you wager the twins know?" she asked swiftly. "Oh, of course they don't. She's been lying to them this whole time. They're going to absolutely die once they hear about this."

"Leesh, think about what you're doing," Angelina warned. "This isn't anyone's business besides Winnie's. I don't think you should be sticking your nose in her–"

"Oh, come off it, Angelina," she said, rolling her eyes. "She has no right to keep this from them. I have every right to fill them in. It's the proper thing to do."

"Bullocks," said Angelina fiercely. "Don't you dare try to act so noble and righteous. You're trying to use this as an opportunity to get in George's good graces by sabotaging Winnie's rep–"

"Piss off, Ang," she seethed, turning her back to her friend and darted down the stairs before she could be stopped. Fred and George were carrying on with Lee in the common room, laughing about some prank they had just pulled. Alicia marched right up in front of George, locking her hands behind her back and swaying from side to side with the note folded in her grip. The twins and Lee halted their conversation and stared unpleasantly over at the petite blonde.

"What's up, Leesh?" asked Lee.

"Nothing much," she beamed vindictively. "I was just about to run off to the library for a bit, but I'm struggling with a bit of a predicament. You see, I found this note to Winnie on the floor of our room, but I can't wait around any longer for her so I can give it to her myself. Do you happen to know where she is?"

"She said she was going to the library too," said George.

"I thought she told me she was running down Ravenclaw's corridor to ask Maddy for help with Potions," said Fred suspiciously, looking over at George.

"Er, well–" George started. "Just hand it over to us, and we'll pass it on to her when she gets back from wherever she ran off to."

"Oh, George, you're so considerate," Alicia flirted. "Here you are, I really hope it isn't urgent."

Alicia handed George the letter and slyly exited out the portrait hole, but hid around the corner to eavesdrop on the web of deception she had just woven. George unfolded the parchment and scanned the message. He seemed indifferent to the note initially but once he had read the short sentence written upon the parchment his eyes widened in shock. Fred noticed his odd expression and snatched the letter from his twin's hand. George's position didn't falter once the paper was removed from his hand. He kept his eyes glued on the same spot the note had been before it was plucked from his grasp. Fred had a similar reaction, slightly less dramatic but still blown away.

"Wood?" asked Fred as if he had no idea who Oliver was.

George didn't reply. He merely gave his watch a quick glance and dashed towards the portrait hole with Fred following after him. Alicia plastered herself flat against the wall and she was simply looked over by the determined twins.

"Oi, where are you going?" called Lee after them.

Alicia smiled wickedly to herself, giggling lightly and biting her thumbnail with glee. She was going to have George Weasley all to herself yet.

–

Oliver had prepared a rather romantic scene in the clock tower. He'd brought me flowers that decorated the usually desolate atmosphere within the clock tower. He'd brought in a couple floor pillows he'd nicked from Trelawney's classroom to sit on and managed to take advantage of his knowledge of the entrance to the kitchens by bringing several delicacies. I bit into a pumpkin pasty and smiled affectionately across at Oliver whom appeared as if he really needed to ask me something.

"What?" I smirked, "Do I have something on my face?"

"N– No, you're perfect," he said dreamily, causing me to blush. I hated how he could do that so easily. I was usually not one for frivolous compliments but from Oliver the simple words made me go weak in the knees.

"Well, something is obviously on your mind," I replied. "Is something wrong?"

"No, nothing is wrong. I just need to ask you something," he said. "I'm just a bit nervous that the answer won't be what I hope it to be."

"Oh, Merlin, Oliver," I sighed heavily, "you're not proposing are you?"

"Of course I'm not," he said hastily. "I just wanted to see if you had plans for the summer yet."

"Just the usual monkey business," I shrugged, swallowing a sip from my goblet of wine Oliver had sneaked in. "The twins and I will probably just work on perfecting some inventions along with creating a few new ones, nothing out of the ordinary. Why do you ask?"

"Well, my parents have been anxious to meet you," he explained so quickly that I could barely understand a word he was saying. He stood up abruptly, holding his arms tightly behind his back as he gazed out the large window to avoid my gaze. "My Mum suggested you spend the summer with us up at our holiday cottage by the sea in Whitby, and I thought it was a brilliant idea. Feel free to decline–"

"Oliver," I said calmly, halting his rambles. "I'd need some time to think about it. I mean, that sounds absolutely amazing, but I've spent every summer at the Burrow since I was a toddler and–"

"I understand you don't–"

"Give me a day to think about it," I interrupted kindly, taking to my feet and standing before him. I took his hands in mine and looked up at him with doe eyes. "I've been planning on telling the twins about us tomorrow, and I'll figure things out then."

"Alright," he smiled hopefully, peering down at me.

I forced a grin up at my handsome boyfriend, knowing that I would refuse his offer. I loved every second of my summers spent at home, and I didn't want anything to interfere with that. He leaned down to kiss me, but a loud _THUD_ interrupted our lip lock. Oliver was abruptly jerked from my grasp, plummeting suddenly onto the stone ground, a steady stream of blood visible from his nose. He pushed himself up off the ground, gently feeling his nose with his fingertips and pulling his hand back to observe the blood. I looked towards the source of the hit, and I should have already known who it was courtesy of: George.

I was enraged, stepping towards the tall redhead and shoving him harshly backwards against his chest. My push didn't faze him, he simply looked over my shoulder down at the stunned Oliver.

"Get up, pretty boy," George urged him, motioning his hands to welcome a fight. Fred stood behind him with a furious look upon his face.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?" I yelled, kneeling down to carefully help Ollie to his feet.

"Me?" George spat, jerking his attention towards me. "What do _you_ think _you're_ doing?"

"Not causing bodily harm for starters," I replied snidely.

"How could you not tell us about this?" said George viciously, nodding towards Oliver and I. "I mean Christ, Winnie, how long has this been going on? A whole bloody month, since Alicia caught you two snogging?"

"Er– a bit longer," I said sheepishly.

"How much longer exactly?" said Fred fiercely, speaking up for the first time. "Two? THREE?"

"Um, it's closer to nine really," I said quietly, looking down at my feet.

Fred and George's faces turned as red as tomatoes, and I was instantly frightened. George stepped forward and took Oliver by the collar.

"You bloody piece of–" George started.

Oliver shoved the tall redhead off of him, wiping his bloody nose with his sleeve sloppily. I stepped between the two boys to prevent some sort of moronic brawl. I looked up at George, my hand upon his chest as he glared at Ollie.

"He didn't do anything," I argued. "It was my decision to keep this a secret, and I'm so sorry–"

"How could you keep this from us, Win?" asked Fred sadly, his tone stabbing my chest. "We don't keep secrets form each other, we never have–"

"I– I don't know," I said, giving the best answer I could muster. "I'm an idiot."

"That's an understatement," said George crudely, his anger still at its peak. "What is the matter with _you_? How can you get involved with the likes of _him_, Winnie? I thought better of you than that."

"What is that supposed to mean?" Oliver spat.

"He's an arrogant, Quidditch-obsessed, pretty boy git is what's the matter with him," said George.

"Just because he's better looking than the likes of you -sorry, Fred-" I shouted.

"Er– none taken," Fred said quickly, seeming a bit awkward as if he was watching a lovers quarrel.

"But that doesn't mean he's a bad person!" I objected. "You've always gotten along with Oliver before! You've always liked him!"

"No, I haven't," George objected. "Neither of us ever have. Right, Fred?"

"Sorry, mate," said Fred. "You're on your own on this one."

George looked somewhat taken aback by Fred's unwillingness to lie for him. George knew that Fred didn't hate Oliver, and he really didn't either, but he expected Fred to lie on his behalf to prove his point. After realizing he was out of arguments, he started making up stupid reasons to why I shouldn't be involving myself with Oliver.

"Well, you definitely can't keep seeing him," said George bluntly. "He's too old for you."

"I'm only two bleeding years older than her!" Oliver shouted. "And what makes you think you can tell her who she can and cannot date!"

"I'm her best friend is why," George objected. "You should just trust that I know what's best for you, Winnie!"

"What's best for me?" I snapped. "You mean what's best for you! You're just scared that if I get a boyfriend you would have to take a backseat to him!"

"Tell me I'm wrong, then," said George. "You know that is exactly what will end up happening, it won't be long now!"

"You're wrong, you had no idea we were together until just now and never noticed a change," I spat, "and I can't believe you think that little of me, George! You and Fred are second to none, you bloody plonker! So you're just going to have to pull your head out of your arse and learn to accept that I happen to care a lot about Oliver, and I am going to keep on seeing him whether you like it or not!"

George swallowed hard, choosing his next statement wisely.

"If you keep seeing each other then you can consider me a stranger," said George, emphasizing every syllable of his insult.

"Oi, mate, that's a bit of an overreaction," Fred defended, beginning to understand the undertones of this fight. "Let's all just cool off and–"

"Piss off, the lot of you," George hissed. He pivoted fiercely and left the clock tower without another word. Fred didn't follow after him straight away. He watched his twin storm off, staring at the now empty doorway for a minute or so before turning back to me and Oliver.

"Well, that was a tad melodramatic, don't you think?" said Fred. "I mean, don't misunderstand, I'm right furious that you've been keeping something like this from us for so long, but I wager you waited this long because you were scared of a reaction like that."

I merely nodded in reply. Fred nodded back silently, processing the situation fully. A quiet _CLICK_ sound could be heard from his mouth as he flicked his tongue against the inside of his cheek.

"Just give me a day or two to cool off, Winnie," said Fred calmly. "I don't want to have an outburst like that, so just keep away from me for a bit. Alright?"

"I understand," I said despondently. "Thanks, Fred."

"Hm, I don't think I've ever been thanked for being mad at someone," said Fred indifferently.

Fred started to walk away silently, rubbing the back of his neck to lead me to believe he was deep in thought. He stopped dead in his tracks for a moment and looked back over his shoulder.

"Make sure you start ripping up your little love notes from now on," said Fred eerily. "I don't want to find out any more secrets about your life via the dreadful messenger: Alicia Spinnet."

–

Alicia bloody Spinnet, that dodgy bint. I'd had enough. I was done with trying to turn the other cheek. Our friendship was officially over. I'd put too much effort into our relationship already. She was dead to me, choosing to boost her reputation to a boy she liked over her longtime friendship with me. I needed to talk to George and sort all of this nonsense out, apologize and explain myself along with explaining Alicia's part in it all. He had to understand, he was my best friend after all. I don't know what I'd do if he didn't.

I left Oliver to be tended to by Madam Pomphrey and darted off in search of George. He wasn't in the common room, his bedroom, the kitchens, the library, the clock tower... he was no where to be found. It had been nearly an hour before I finally caught sight of him skipping stones roughly into the lake. He was by himself, thank Merlin. The sun was setting, so I didn't have a lot of time before he departed to return inside the castle. I knew he heard me approaching, but his motions and stature remained unfazed by my presence.

"George?" I breathed quietly.

No response.

"George?" I tried again with no avail. "George, look at me."

"Just leave me be, Winnie," he said viciously.

"Listen, I'm sorry–"

"You're sorry?" he scoffed, releasing a wickedly twisted laugh. "You're sorry?"

"Yes, I'm sorry," I said slowly, emphasizing each syllable as if he didn't understand the meaning of the word. "I should have told you a long time ago. I was selfish and–"

"How could do this to me, Winnie?" he interrupted severely, hurt in his voice. He had ceased his rock throwing and opted to stare straight ahead at the water.

"I didn't mean to hurt you and Fred," I replied genuinely. "I didn't want to ever–"

"I'm not talking about the three of us, I'm talking about just you and me," he said, turning to meet my eyes for the first time. His face appeared pained beyond repair.

"What do you mean, me and you?" I asked.

"You know damn well what I mean," he spat ferociously."Don't play dumb with me, Winifred McKinnon, you are perfectly aware–"

"No, George, please enlighten me," I said sardonically, "because I think we have our wires crossed here. You see, I recall a kiss we shared and when I went to confront you about it I believe it was you who insisted it meant nothing and I should forget it."

"We're Winnie and George," he said. "You know we're always–"

"No!" I objected fiercely. "We are nothing. I'm sick of your games, leading me on and–"

"Oh, I'm so sorry," he said sarcastically, slapping his open palm against his chest in this faux aghast manner. "I guess I was the one snogging other blokes when I had a significant other–"

"Sod off, George," I snapped. "I regret kissing you, it should have never happened. You've made that perfectly clear."

It was a lie.

"No, you did when you hooked up with your little boyfriend," he said wickedly. "Tell me, does he know I had my tongue down your throat–"

I cut him off with a swift _SMACK_ across the cheek, instantly leaving a red mark for impact. I'd never slapped George before. Sure, I'd punched him, I'd kicked him, pinched him and a million other offsets but never have I slapped him. To me, a slap is an action of disgust and disrespect to the receiver. That was what I wanted to invoke and I'd accomplished it. His mouth hung open slightly, his head turned to the side from the sheer force of my smack. He blinked a couple times in disbelief before slowly adjusting his face back to me by holding his chin in between his thumb and index finger. He popped moved his jaw from side to side before meeting my furious gaze. Our eyes were on fire, neither willing to stand down.

"I came here to apologize, beg for your forgiveness," I said, feeling my throat experience the sharp pain that resembled razorblades. "I came here to tell you I was wrong, tell you how much I care about you and Fred. Now I think my efforts are futile. You obviously don't want to hear anything I have to say."

"You said it yourself," he said in a voice so cold that I scarcely recognized it. "I'm nothing to you and you're nothing to me. _We_ are nothing. What else could there possibly be to say?"

My lips opened slightly, my throat now dry as the Sahara. He stabbed me with an invisible blade straight into my heart, repaying my own slash at him.

"Nothing," I repeated unsteadily in an eerily emotionless tone. "You're absolutely right, George."

Without another word I pivoted swiftly on my heel and not walked, but ran towards the castle. I couldn't be in his presence a moment longer, it hurt too much. I had no idea what had happened, what was happening between George and I anymore. He'd never been so angry at me, never even close and it scared me. He didn't look at me in the way, he looked at me like he didn't know me and maybe he didn't. Maybe I didn't know myself. We had spoken to one another like we were lovers in a row and maybe we were.

I didn't know where we stood anymore, what would become of us. We obviously had not made up, we were still fighting but in a manner I was unaccustomed to. It felt uncomfortable, and I didn't like it at all. I'd try and talk to him before our Potions final the following morning, hopefully he had cooled down by then. I prayed he would at least be less angry the next day. I doubted it but a girl can dream.

–

Alicia had returned to the dorm long after I fell into a restless sleep and woke before I had come to for obvious reasons. I had no idea where the codger had gone to hide from me, and I really didn't care. She was smart because I was so enraged that night that she would have pulled her hair out. I told Angelina about what had happened though Fred had already enlightened her on the whole situation. She didn't tell me that she "told me so" because, well she was one of my best friends. I appreciated it quite a lot because I certainly deserved it.

The only benefit from achieved from my relationship with Oliver becoming public was that it was public now. I sat by him and his friends at breakfast because I clearly wasn't welcomed at my regular table. However, neither George nor Alicia were present for breakfast in the morning. George was most likely still sulking and Alicia was probably still hiding from me. I could hardly blame her, she had pissed off _Murderin' McKinnon_ after all. Ollie promised to meet me outside the dungeons after my final O.W.L. Exam, and I hoped I would be in a more agreeable mood after my efforts to persuade George to forgive me. I needed a pick-me-up after receiving all the curious stares and whispers from my fellow Hogwarts peers at the sight of Oliver and I together as well.

I arrived early to Potions, one of the first students to arrive. I took my usual seat that would be beside George and awaited his presence. The chairs began to fill up without George anywhere in sight. I could tell Fred and Lee noticed judging by their anxious looks, worrying George had overslept or something. Maybe he was so mad at me that he opted out of his Potions exam just so he wouldn't have to look at me, too revolted to be anywhere near me. I heaved a heavy sigh and propped my chin up on my fists, closing my eyelids for a moment to think. I could leave Potions without taking the exam to go find him, knowing I most likely wouldn't pass the test to begin with–

"Pardon me, but you're in my seat," said a particularly annoying familiar female voice.

I reopened my eyes and my heart instantly fell into my gut, immediately being eaten away by my stomach acid. George and Alicia stood before me, hand-in-hand. George's face appeared blank and emotionless whilst Alicia seemed to beam with sheer joy.

"Excuse me?" I replied.

"You're in my seat," she repeated as if it was nothing.

"No, I've sat in this seat every single class since the beginning of the year," I said in a tone that degraded her intelligence. "You sit back by Angelina, I'm sure it's a simple mistake. I know how hard it is for your pea-sized brain to retain such challenging information."

"The seats aren't assigned," said Alicia crudely. "You need to move."

"Make me," I said, taking to my feet. I planted my hands on the tabletop, leaning over so my face was only a foot or so from hers.

"Georgie," she whined, yanking on his arm and looking up at him with pouty lips.

"The seats aren't assigned," he said in an indifferent voice.

"George?" I said quietly in sheer shock.

"We want to sit by each other, Winnie," he said in the same emotionless tone whilst Alicia sent me a sickeningly pompous grin. "Please, switch seats with Angelina."

My mouth open and closed several times before I finally collected my books to sit by Angelina. I didn't speak a single syllable for the remainder of the class no matter how hard Angie tried to get me to talk about what had happened in between the adding of ingredients. I was frightened that if I opened my mouth to speak that vomit would come out instead. The sight of Alicia shoving shaggy bits of hair behind George's ear and wiping dark soot smudges off his cheek were nauseating. I caught George glance at me once towards the end of class and I lost my urge to plead for his forgiveness and gained an urge to win the game he was playing at. As soon as class was dismissed I darted out the door before Alicia and George to find Oliver just outside waiting for me. I abruptly grabbed his tie without any hesitation and pulled him down into a deep kiss at the exact moment the two barmpots exited Snape's classroom. I peaked open one eye to look at George and felt a mixture of disgust in myself and a sick level of accomplishment at the sight of his face turning red. I then took Oliver swiftly by the hand and drug him forcefully towards the opposing direction of Gryffindor tower.

"Uh, where are we going?" he asked, bending over as I yanked his arm.

"The Owlry," I replied curtly.

"Why?"

"Because I need to write to Molly," I said, out of breath. "I need to make sure she doesn't mind that I'm staying with you this summer."

–

The exam results came out on the last day of term. I had miraculously gotten five O.W.L.s. Percy had got his top-grade N.E.W.T.s; Fred and George had scraped a handful of O.W.L.s each from what Fred had told me once he started talking to me again a day or two later though he was still a bit awkward towards me. I could hardly blame him. Gryffindor House, meanwhile, largely thanks to our spectacular performance in the Quidditch Cup, had won the House championship for the third year running. This meant that the end of term feast took place amid decorations of scarlet and gold, and that the Gryffindor table was the noisiest of the lot, as everybody celebrated. Even I managed to forget about the George situation as I ate, drank, talked, and laughed with the rest. George and Alicia sat further down the table by themselves so Alicia could swoon over him and avoid making everyone vomit up their dinner. He had not said one word to me since our row by the lake, and I had abandoned any attempt of swaying him in my favor.

He was too busy with Alicia. They spent every second together for the last few days. It was revolting. They weren't a couple... yet because I knew what George was playing at even if Alicia was too stupid to catch on. He was trying to make me jealous and epically failing whenever I saw how unhappy he looked beside her. He's a complete git in my opinion. When time came for the Hogwarts Express to take us back to London I couldn't wait to get away from the pair of them.

–

"My parents couldn't pick us up, so they called a car for us," said Oliver leading me off the train as he carried my bag for me, much to my displeasure.

"Okay," I said quietly. "I'm going to find Fred before we leave, meet you there. Take May for me, will you?"

"Yeah no problem, I'll meet you outside King's Cross," said Oliver, accepting the friendly feline from my arms.

As pleased that I was to get away from the gruesome twosome, I was sad to be away from the Burrow and from Fred. I'd said my goodbyes to everyone already, but Fred deserved a more intimate departure. He was my best mate after all. I caught him retrieving Ginny's bag from her overhead for her, apparently it was too heavy for her and she had already ran off to say goodbye to her mates.

"Hey Fred," I said, slipping into the compartment and closing the door behind me.

"Hey Freddie," he smiled, grunting as he tossed Ginny's bag onto the ground. "Where's Wood?"

"He's fetching the car," I replied. "I just wanted to give you a proper goodbye since I won't see you for a long while."

"Aw, aren't you precious," he teased, conceding and swooping me up in a bearlike hug.

"I'll miss you, Fred," I said softly in his ear, and meaning it more than he could ever know.

"I'll miss you too," he replied, sloppily kissing my forehead. "I wish you didn't have leave."

"I don't have to," I said, pulling away. "I want to."

"You can cut the shit now, Winnie," he retorted, no sass in voice. "It's me you're talking to. We both know that you are running away, avoiding the inevitability of dealing with this row you're in with George."

"Fred, I care about Ollie and–"

"Oh, I'm not doubting that," he insisted. "I'm not implying that you're using him or anything because I know you legitimately care about the bloke or you wouldn't have risked all these consequences to be with him but..."

"But what?" I inquired.

"But I think you care about George the slightest bit more," he said wisely, "and I think that you don't know exactly what you want yet. I think you're avoiding Option B, that would be George if you didn't know, of your little scenario because you're scared being with Option A, being Oliver, isn't right for you. I also think you can't bare to see George with Alicia just like he can't stand to see you with Wood. But let me just say that we both know this Alicia thing will be over the second we step foot off this train because he can't bloody stand her. But anyway, all of that is why I wager you're not coming home this summer."

"Whatever you want to believe," I said, rolling my eyes. "Though I agree about the Alicia bit."

Suddenly, the sliding compartment door flew open revealing Fred's more idiotic twin.

"What's taking you so bloody long–" he began before he noticed me. "Oh."

"Just saying goodbye to Freddie," said Fred, nodding towards me.

"I see," he nodded slowly, refusing to look at me. "Well, just get a move on and meet us at the car."

"Aye, aye," said Fred, saluting his brother in a mocking manner before George slammed the door closed after him as he dashed off.

"You better go," I frowned.

"Yeah, I suppose so," said Fred, lifting Ginny's bag over his shoulder and striding towards the exit. He turned back to me one last time. "Hey Win?"

"Yeah?" I replied.

"Promise me that you won't let this fight come between us all forever," said Fred. "I'm not used to this trio being separated, and I don't want to be."

I had to lie.

"Cross my heart," I nodded slowly an uneasily, crisscrossing my chest before Fred departed after George, leaving me all alone.

–

_**Part II**_

_The prologue of __**"Star-Crossed" **__has been posted. Please check for it on my profile page. I really hope you all review. I would mean a whole lot to me. Some highlights from Part II which I think will be the most epic parts are: Winnie and George rebuild their friendship whilst trying to manage their romantic relationships with Oliver, Alicia, and each other, Karkaroff comes into the picture and turns Winnie's life upside down, "Mad-Eye" Moody (or rather Barty Crouch, Jr.) brings back a memory Winnie believed to have been lost forever, Winnie's visions begin to effect her daydreams, Cassandra tries to persuade her granddaughter into pursuing the art of Divination, Alicia continues her bitchiness, chaos and hilarity undoubtedly ensue..._

–

_**Author's Note**_

_**First off**__, I'M BACK! I just got home from England, and I am beyond jet lagged. It was the most amazing experience of my life. I loved every second of it even though the Brits aren't particularly fond of Americans for obvious reasons. Oh, well I'm back home and raring to start Part II and finish it by Christmas, so I can start and finish Part III by next summer. I was bored on the 8 hour plane ride, so I started story plotting (I had to sit by these 2 smelly people and it sucked). But anyways..._

_**Second off**__, thank you so much to every last one of you for reading and reviewing "Crossed Hearts." This has been my favorite story I've ever written by a landslide. I've truly enjoyed creating Winnie, and I've really liked using this story as a stress-reliever and escape from everyday life. I'm so pleased that this has had a decent amount of success and that is all thanks to the lot of you. I love you all :)_

_**Third off**__, I'm sorry of this came off a bit stilted. It was just so hard to write. I know things happened really fast, but they had to be short and sweet because everything in Part II is going to be picked apart. You'll understand later on, no worries. Please just don't hate on it too much._

_So Winnie and Ollie are spending the summer together whilst George blows off steam. I wonder how this is going to go... not well most likely. We'll gain a keener understanding of where Oliver comes from and how well Winnie fits in with his lifestyle. It'll be funsies._

_**PS:**__ I'll be bringing back my shout-outs for Chapter One of "__**Star-Crossed**__" (not to be confused with the Prologue). Sorry, I didn't have the time at the moment._

_Love Always,_

_Milena Chernikova_

–

_**Review.**_


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